


A Torn Mark

by myangelshunter (Beccarez)



Series: Marked [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Castiel, Dean Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Mild Gore, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Character Death, Past Torture, Psychological Torture, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Self-Harm, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-01 05:15:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 130,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4007266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beccarez/pseuds/myangelshunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years ago, Dean Winchester made a deal with a demon to bring his match, Castiel Novak back from the dead. Thanks to Lilith, Dean payed that debt five months early. Sam and Cas are left to deal with Dean's death after failed attempts of breaking him free. When Castiel wakes one morning to the sounds of someone breaking into the house, all Hell breaks loose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And I Cave In...

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dear readers! This is the much awaited for sequel to [A Comet's Mark](archiveofourown.org/works/1961637). I strongly suggest reading that fic before diving into this one.
> 
> I would also like to encourage you guys to read the tags, as each chapter is posted, I'll be updating them. If there's something I feel needs big-bright warnings, I'll add it into the notes prior to the chapters, but otherwise, read at your own risk =)
> 
> All the Chapter Titles for this fic are lyrics from Ellie Gouldings, Explosions. (Go listen, it's a great song!) 
> 
> Once again,[ my lovely beta Kim](myhuntersangel.tumblr.com) has joined me on this adventure, so please extend your thanks and comments to her as well. This story wouldn't be here without her endless patience and encouragement!
> 
> So, strap on your seat belts kids, it's gonna be a bumpy ride ;)

**_June 17 th 2008_ **

 

There was dirt under his finger nails. But he was digging in the dirt. It didn’t matter. The hole needed to be big enough for the box to fit. Not too deep, not too wide, and he knew that it had to be smack dab in the middle of the cross-roads. He’d read that much in Dean’s Journal. Sam fought back the tears at the thought of Dean doing exactly this three years ago when they lost Castiel.

It stung knowing that Dean had been in this much pain, had been this desperate, had loved Castiel this much. Sam knew this pain long before his brother. He should have known it would happen. He should have seen it in Dean. But that was his mistake; Sam _had_ seen it. Dean had started drinking the instant the Devil’s Door was closed. Sam had been too relieved that the demon was dead, too tired from the fight, too weighed down with his own grief of losing Cas to realize what it had done to Dean.

Those were piss poor excuses. Sam should have been there for Dean, same as Dean had been there for him after Jess, same as Dean had been there for Sam all throughout his miserable life. But no. Sam had let him down. He’d left Dean to himself, to his treacherous thoughts and they had sent him to Hell. Because Dean had cared so much for the match he thought he’d never had, and Sam wasn’t there to catch him when he fell.

Sam coughed a sob away as he shoved the tin box deep into the hole, grinding it against the rough edges so it would fit better. He covered the hole, pushing the dirt back over it as roughly and quickly as he could. He staggered as he stood, kicking more dirt over the hole as he finished the last of the whiskey in his bottle.

The night was warm. The air was thick with humidity, not even a breeze to quell the heat. Sam was all alone on the road, practically in the middle of nowhere. He swayed where he stood. The whiskey in his stomach made sure of that. Sam circled the area once and tossed the empty bottle as hard as he could.

“SHOW YOURSELF YOU BASTARD!” Sam shouted.  “I know you’re here!”

The world spun but Sam was almost certain he was standing in the middle of the road. He’d polished off the last half of that whiskey bottle he’d found in the back of the Impala under the passenger seat on the way here. Liquid courage Dean had sometimes called it. Sam figured it couldn’t hurt.

“Sam Winchester,” A voice called from one side of the crossroads.

Sam turned around a little too quickly, and he stumbled slightly as he walked.

“I never thought I would see the day.” The woman standing at the edge of the cross-roads was in a dark black dress, blonde hair twirled up into loose bun, one hand spinning a loose curl around her face.

Sam caught how her eyes glazed over red—like all other cross-road demons—but there was a smile on her face. Until Sam was two steps away from her.

“Easy there big guy.” The demon said, holding a hand out to stop Sam in his tracks. “Show me that shiny knife of yours, and then we can talk.” 

Sam reached under his shirt, pulling out the dagger and holding his hands out. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead.” Sam told her flatly. It was true.

Sam was a hunter now. He’d spent half a year after Jess’ death seeking the demon that had killed her, and putting it down for good. After that, Dean continued to hunt with Cas while Sam stumbled around Bobby’s, trying to pick up the pieces of his life. But the first year when Cas had caught the flu Sam had gone with Dean to hunt. Sam couldn’t let his brother go out hunting alone. And he hadn’t really stopped hunting even when Cas was back in swing with Dean.

He hunted on his own occasionally, and helped Dean with tough ones. There were even a few cases that Sam helped Cas with when Dean broke his leg. Three years of hunting, of back to back cases. Three years tracking demons, ghosts, werewolves, vampires, anything. And Sam hadn’t stopped since Dean’s death in March. Sam had skills now that he never—not even in his wildest dreams—thought he would have. So this single little cross-roads demon didn’t scare him. Not one damn bit.

“There’s no traps, no salt line, no holy water—” Sam stabbed the knife into the center of the table at the abandoned gas station near the edge of the crossroad. “No weapons.”

“That’s more like it.” The demon cooed. She stepped up to the table, resting her elbows down near the knife to hold her chin in her hands. Sam swallowed roughly at her smile, knowing she was laughing at the state he was in now. He couldn’t remember the last time he showered, and his hair looked greasy even to him as it hung low in his eyes. He knew his clothes were a wreck since he’d kneeled in the dirt to dig a whole not two minutes ago. And Sam knew his eyes were probably strained red, both from the alcohol thrumming through his system, and the emotions swelling in his throat.

Dean had done this. For Cas. He’d stood where Sam stood now, desperate, alone, broken. The world shifted on Sam, so he leaned heavily on the table, both hands grasping the edges tightly.

“I want my brother back.” Sam demanded.

“Sorry Sam, you know we can’t do that.” The demon giggled.

Anger churned in his chest and Sam snapped. He yanked the knife out of the table, grabbed the demon’s hand and stabbed the blade through her palm, nailing it to the surface. She bit back a scream as her eyes flashed red. This time, Sam smirked. He knew it wouldn’t kill her, but the orange lightning-flashes running up her arms probably hurt.

“Listen you red-eyed fucker,” Sam hissed. “I don’t want a deal. I don’t want a ten-year contract. I don’t want a three-year contract. Fuck it, I don’t want any time! _I want a swap_. Him topside, and you get me. Lilith wanted me dead in the first place right? Now she can have me!”

The god-damned Hell spawn actually laughed. The more Sam demanded, the harsher her laughter ran in his ears. She glanced at her bleeding hand, then up to Sam’s wrecked face. Sam hardly tore his gaze away from her, not caring one bit that his fingers were soaked in her blood.

“Whoever said that Lilith wanted you dead?” The demon asked. “And besides, you Winchesters were a pain in our ass. Especially with your little Angel Novak running around and fucking up our plans.” The demon spat. “It’s better this way. We’ve got Dean right where we want him. You’re a hot mess, and I bet that hunter of yours is getting ready to string up his own noose right about now. Why on earth would we want to have things any other way?”

That rocked Sam half out of his drunken stupor. Cas? Stringing his own noose? He hadn’t spoken to Cas in weeks. Or maybe it was months? No, no it had to have been just a few days. Cas was fine last they talked. But this demon was snarling at him, like it was pleased. Like Cas was actually stringing up his own noose. Like Cas was going to send himself straight to Hell.

 _No._ He couldn’t lose Cas too.

Sam snapped the blade out of the demon’s hand. He lunged across the table, stabbing the woman in the throat before she could smoke out. The body fell in a heap on the other side of the table, and Sam fumbled for his phone in his pocket. The phone rang and rang, and rang in his ears. Sam was getting dizzy as he walked across the cross-roads back to the Impala.

“Damn it, pick up!” Sam growled. The phone went to voice mail. “Shit.” Sam tried another number, pressing his phone back to his ear. Cas had to answer. He had to. Things weren’t that bad yet. It’d been three months but—

The phone clicked as someone answered.

“Cas? Cas!” Sam sighed in relief when Castiel answered the phone with a tired groan.

 _“Sam? It’s nearly two in the morning.”_ Cas muttered, his voice was deep with annoyance and raspy from sleep. _“Wait. Never mind that, where the hell have you been?”_

“Sorry. I—I was. Um’re you okay?” Sam winced. Even he heard the way his words slurred together.

 _“What?”_ Cas groaned again.

“Are you okay?” Sam repeated, slowly, clearer now. “You were sleeping when I called? Right? You’re in bed at Bobby’s, safe and sound right?” Sam wondered, relief washing over him in steady waves as he heard Cas rustling about in his bed.

 _“I’m in Chicago actually, just wrapped up a case. You sound terrible. Are you drunk?”_ Cas asked.

Sam laughed at the tired surprise in Castiel’s voice. Yea, he was drunk. That probably shocked Cas.

 _“Sam, where are you?”_ Castiel asked. _“It’s been a month. Where have—”_

“It doesn’t matter.” Sam chuckled, cutting off Cas’ words with a dry laugh. He couldn’t help it. The sound escaped him even though there was nothing funny about any of this. It was all wrong. It was all so fucked up, all so wrong and there was nothing that he could do to fix it. But at least Cas was okay. That lying demon bitch. Sam glanced over his shoulder, a pleasant snap running down his spine when he saw the dead body right where he left it.

“Look, I’ll be at Bobby’s tomorrow.” Sam promised as he stared at the hand. His fingers were coated in red, and the knife’s edge was nearly black with blood. He’d have to clean this later. “There’s gotta be a way we can break into Hell to save him Cas.”

There was silence for a while, and then Castiel sighed heavily. _“We’ll talk about that later.”_

Sam meant what he said that night. He meant to return to Bobby’s, to help Cas find a way to save his brother.

He hadn’t expected to be jumped by demons in his room. Or saved by one of the demons who jumped him.

****

 

**_August 20 th 2008_ **

 

The shouting hardly fazed Castiel. The anguished sound resonated throughout the basement from the young man strapped down into a steel chair over a white devil’s trap painted onto the floor. The demon twisted his head and tried to yank out from under the blade in the hunter’s hand. It was no use. Castiel only slid the knife through the shirt over his chest, making another deep cut into the demon’s ribcage.

“The Door into Hell.” Castiel ground out. “This will be the last time I ask. It would be to your benefit, if you answered me now.”

The blood was warm on his hands. Castiel had been down here, in the basement with this demon for hours, but he didn’t feel the stretch of time. He didn’t feel the warmth of the blood dripping from the blade onto his fingers. He didn’t feel any sympathy for the shouts or the screams the demon let out. He was sobbing now as Castiel held the knife steady at his chest, letting the edge of the blade bite through the skin slowly.

The boy threw his head back with a shout. When he turned his eyes back to Castiel, they were completely black. “If I tell you, I’ll get ten times worse than this downstairs.” He spat.

“If you don’t tell me, then I’ll kill you.” Castiel whispered, pulling the blade back, turning it gently so that the demon could see the engravings coated with his blood. The black eyes flickered from the blade, to Castiel’s face as the demon panted. “I was always under the impression that demons functioned on self-preservation rather than loyalty to traitorous masters.” Castiel added, watching the light shimmer over the blood and steel in his hands. “So, which would you prefer? An incredibly permanent death or whatever pathetic excuse you demons call a life?”

The demon sucked in a few breaths as Castiel leaned forward again to run the soiled edge of the knife over his jaw, smearing blood as it moved carefully down to his throat. Castiel could wait a bit longer if it meant this demon would cooperate. The last few that Sam had brought back over the past two months were much less helpful. All these demons roaming the earth managed to get here somehow, Castiel only wanted to know how. Yet no one seemed keen on sharing the secret.

This latest demon took a young host, Castiel realized distantly. The edge of the blade barely caught on any hair against the boy’s cheek or chin. But Castiel made sure the blade dragged a bit against his skin, reminding the demon how close he was to more pain should he neglect to answer. Castiel held back a sigh as the seconds of silence ticked on and on against the boy’s labored breaths. Tonight was going to be another hopeless night. So when the demon spat in his face, he’d expected as much and simply brushed the blood and saliva off his cheek.

“So be it.” Castiel sighed. Without a second’s hesitation, Castiel drove the demon blade into his chest. The final scream was more of a gasp than a shout, and it disappeared while the lightning crackled under the demon’s skin. Castiel ripped the knife from his chest, sucking his teeth in disappointment as he whipped it clean with a red rag. It sparked a memory.

He saw Dean reaching into the glove-compartment for a rag just like this. He always had them stuffed away somewhere in the Impala, scattered across the house, and there were probably even some in the room upstairs. They were part of his trade, part of his life. Castiel tossed aside the rag, tucked the blade into the sheath at his waist, and headed up the stairs.

“Anything?” Sam asked as Castiel wandered towards the kitchen sink.

“He was more than uncooperative.” Castiel answered, scrubbing away the blood on his hands under the running water. The soap ran pink in the porcelain lined sink, and Castiel continued to scrub even after his hands were clean. He rubbed hard with the dishtowel until his skin felt raw, and chaffed. Castiel only clenched his jaw as he rubbed in one last drop of soap.

“I’ll see what I can find on my way to Indiana.” Sam promised, closing his notebook and laptop.

“Are you sure you won’t need help?” Castiel wondered.

“It’s probably just a woman in white.” Sam shrugged. “I can handle it.”

Castiel nodded as Sam continued to clear off the table. He stacked the books onto the sofa on his way up the stairs to his bedroom. Castiel passed a hand over his brow as he walked to the fridge. They were running low on beer. Castiel groaned as he straightened, bottle in his hand while the fridge slammed shut.

The calendar taped to the thick door caught his eye. Bobby or Sam must have crossed out the dates as the days passed this summer. Castiel’s shoulders fell at the date that was currently circled.

August 20th.

Today was the twentieth. Castiel glanced at the beer and quickly put it back in the fridge. He went to the cabinet under the sink, crouching down to reach all the way into the back behind the piping. Sure enough, there was half a bottle of Jack Daniel’s tucked behind all the cleaning supplies. Sam had said Dean grew creative in those days and they never found all the bottles he stashed away. But over the past five months, Castiel had been finding them without fail.

Bottles of whiskey seemed to be Dean’s favorite. Once or twice, Castiel had stumbled over a fifth of Morgan, and in one rare occasion a flask full of vodka. Castiel wasn’t even sure how he found them. But whenever he felt the urge, the need to feel at least something, even the burn of alcohol coursing through his chest, he would know exactly where to look.

The first glass went down smooth, and Castiel almost smiled. He glanced at the label on the bottle. This wasn’t a plain bottle of Jack Daniels. Dean had good taste. Castiel couldn’t disagree with that now. He poured a second glass, drinking it down a bit slower this time. There was the burn. There was the fiery after-taste that made Castiel cough. And there was the creep of an oncoming headache. His body already knew the routine. If it could even be called a routine.

Castiel rubbed at his temple as he poured himself a third glass and took it over to the tiny kitchen table. He sat down roughly, leaning against the wall as he rolled the amber liquid about in his glass. The creak of wheels on wooden floor caught his attention, and Castiel glanced over as Bobby rounded the corner from the back-porch.

“Any luck?” Bobby wondered.

Castiel answered by sipping from his glass. Bobby merely nodded in understanding, and fetched himself a glass from the drying rack. Castiel silently poured two fingers worth for him and Bobby raised it half-heartedly.

“To another year, hombre.” He muttered, and Castiel nodded meekly at the toast. Bobby sucked his teeth as the whiskey went down and he set his glass onto the table. “Ya know he left you something. In case you want it.”

“What?” Castiel muttered. Maybe the alcohol was messing with his brain early tonight. Because it sounded like Bobby said Dean had—

“You really think he’d leave you with nothing on your birthday?” Bobby asked hoarsely.

“H-he had five months left. How?” Castiel fumbled with the mathematics and reasoning.

Bobby only chuckled and wheeled himself around the kitchen. Castiel followed in numb curiosity, taking only the bottle of Jack along and leaving their empty glasses on the table. Bobby stopped at his desk and pulled out the bottom drawer. Castiel watched as Bobby yanked out a dusty looking USPS Box, silently handing it to Castiel.

“Must’ve found something he liked for ya while you were out hunting,” Bobby explained. “Had it mailed back just in time. It arrived here yesterday.”

Castiel took the box and fell back into the sofa. The bottle of Jack he set down near his feet, keeping the box in his lap as he stared at his present dumbly. When on earth did Dean have the time to go gift-shopping for him? All that time, and instead of telling Castiel about the deal or letting him help to get Dean free of it…Dean preferred to find him a birthday present to open on the day he knew the hounds would come for him.

Castiel didn’t know whether he should be angry or smile. At the moment, all he could think was to snap his knife open to cut the tape away from the box. The first thing Castiel saw was the packing peanuts. After pushing aside the layer, there was a card. _Cas_ , was scripted in Dean’s quick cursive on the gray envelope, and Castiel sucked in a breath as he tore it open.

 

_Hey Cas,_

_Happy Birthday. I don’t regret any of it. And I don’t want you to either._

_Dean_

 

“The bastard.” Castiel muttered, putting the card to the side to dig through the rest of the packing peanuts. His fingers brushed against something square and plastic. Castiel tugged it free from the box and tried not to frown. It was an empty cassette-tape holder. Actually, there were more cassette tapes in the box under the peanuts. Castiel opened the empty case to find a key inside, along with another note in Dean’s handwriting.

 

_Don’t let her rust away in Bobby’s front yard. She’s yours now._

 

It was a key for the Impala. And all the other cassette tapes would fit perfectly with the 1960’s radio in the car’s dashboard. Some were rock-albums, which Castiel knew were Dean’s favorites. Others were some Castiel had never heard of until now. There were seven in total, and all Castiel could do was shake his head.

“Cared more for that damned car than he did himself.” Castiel muttered, as he stacked the tapes next to him on the couch.

“It was the last thing he had of his old man.” Bobby answered with a shrug. “He probably figured if Sam wouldn’t want it, you’d take care of it.”

Castiel only nodded. One of the tapes had a blank cover. Castiel frowned as he turned it over, and then opened it. The label on the tape itself simply read _For Cas_. Shaking his head once more, Castiel took the tape, the key and the bottle of Jack, leaving the house for the warm summer night, and the muggy air inside the Impala.

He started the car, sitting for a moment as the engine rumbled steadily. After a swig from the bottle, Castiel switched out the tapes and sat back tensely. The song that started playing was steady and quiet. Castiel had to turn the dial up a few notches before he recognized the song that was filling the cabin.

“Really?” Castiel muttered, tossing his head back into the seat. Journey. This was definitely a Journey song. Dean had played enough of their albums over the years for Castiel to recognize the guitar style, and the voice of the singer. And this was one of the songs Castiel actually knew quite well.

_“Wheels go round and round…round my mind.”_

Castiel took another sip from the bottle. _“Restless hearts, sleep alone tonight. Sending all my love along the wire. They say that the road ain’t no place to start a family….”_

“Damn it, Dean.” Castiel swore, and he jammed the forward button until he hit the next song on the track. This one felt more like Dean. Castiel couldn’t place the actual band, but he knew he’d probably heard this song at least once. The music was a little more soothing, and a little less gut-wrenching, so Castiel let the song play.

“ _It’s getting dark…too dark to see…feels like I’m knocking on heaven’s door. Knock, knock, knocking on heaven’s door….”_

He took another sip from the bottle, wincing this time at the burn of whiskey at is tore down his throat. It settled in his stomach, and it should have warmed his whole body. By now, it should be soothing away the numbness under his ribs, or at least masking the ache with a dry heat. But that didn’t seem to be the case for tonight. Or Castiel needed to drink more. He took another sip and closed his eyes.

If he focused on the music hard enough and the rumble of the Impala’s engine, he could remember.

He could remember cruising on a US state road with the windows dropped open, and the cooling autumn air billowing through the cabin, ruffling through his jacket and Dean’s hair. He could remember the bumps in the road, the radio blaring so Dean could hear it over the open windows. Castiel had smiled whenever Dean tried to sing along with the words and guitar solos. The man never had perfect pitch, but Dean sang along anyway, enjoying his rock music, and Castiel never had the heart to stop him. Just like this song. Dean would have sang along as the road stretched out in front of them, the hot sun bearing down on them through the windshield, and during the end of it, Dean would have reached across the bench seat to tug on Castiel’s fingers….

The song changed and the vision was broken. Castiel was back in the present. He was sitting alone in the driver’s seat of the Impala. It was the middle of the night, and he was listening to a tape Dean had made up for his birthday. Castiel’s cheek felt wet, and he brushed at the tear roughly. He should keep listening. He owed it to Dean at least, but—

 _“Isn’t that the way? Everybody’s got their dues in life to pay.”_ Castiel swallowed another swig from the bottle. _“I know, nobody knows where it comes and where it goes. I know everybody sins. You got to lose to know how to win.”_

Aerosmith. This was probably Aerosmith.

_“Sing with me, sing for the year, sing for the laughter and sing for the tears. Sing with me if it’s just for today. Maybe tomorrow the good Lord’ll take you away.”_

Castiel nodded to himself. He enjoyed this song. Even if he couldn’t pin point the title of the song like Dean could, but then—

_“Dream on…”_

Castiel laughed. It was ironic that a few seconds ago Castiel had been day-dreaming of a time when Dean was here, driving the Impala, singing along, and now this song was filling the cabin. Like Dean had known how this would plan out…

“You bastard.” Castiel muttered again with a heavier sip from the bottle. He leaned against the driver’s door, keeping the bottle in his lap as the Impala continue to rumble in idle and the cassette tape switched over to the next song. The tune changed almost entirely. Castiel frowned as the sound filled the Impala, and he tried to place the artist.

_“I can't fight this feeling any longer, and yet I'm still afraid to let it flow._

_What started out as friendship has grown stronger,_

_I only wish I had the strength to let it show._

_I tell myself that I can't hold out forever._

_I said there is no reason for my fear._

_‘Cause I feel so secure when we're together._

_You give my life direction._

_You make everything so clear.”_

Oh it was this song.

Castiel sighed quietly as the tune dragged on steadily. Dean had only played this song once or twice, preferring to skip it all the other times it’d pop up on the radio or on his taps. Yet, Dean had felt it necessary to toss the song onto this tape for him?

_“And even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight._

_You're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter's night._

_And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might._

_And I can't fight this feeling anymore._

_I’d forgotten what I started fighting for…”_

Castiel’s cheeks were damp again. To Hell with it, he was alone, it was his birthday. No one would see. Castiel tipped the bottle back as the song continued to play. He didn’t have the heart to reach up and change the song. He couldn’t bring himself to stop the music either. Dean had picked each song. They were all on this tape for a reason, and Castiel was starting to figure it out. Castiel had said it to Dean, and he only remembered Dean saying it to him once, in something of a dream that probably wasn’t even real, but through the songs on the tape, Castiel read the message clearly.

Even if Dean was gone, Castiel was loved.

And damn it all if that didn’t make this birthday all the more painful. Because Dean had to wait until now to tell him this. Castiel shook his head roughly and took another swig as the song clicked to the next track.

Sam found him there in the morning, the Impala still running, the tape humming static at the end of the recordings, the bottle of Jack empty in his lap.

****

 

**_September 17 th 2008_ **

 

They always talk about the stages of grief. It was something he knew about in theory but never actually considered to be useful in his day-to-day life. He saw death on a nearly weekly basis. Castiel could never afford to grieve. There was never time. Even if they lost an innocent there was another one a few weeks later that needed saving. Then again, grief may have only hit him when it came to his family. But, that had happened so suddenly and he’d been given a cause to serve so soon afterwards that Castiel wasn’t completely sure if he went through those stages as a teen.

Yes, he’d been wrecked by the loss of his parents and his sister. So much so that a Djinn used that against him even when he was eighteen. He’d been haunted for months, hearing the screams of his sister and the feelings of knives pricking, slicing, and jabbing into his skin. The mocked voices of his ghoul-inhabited parents stung throughout the first few months before Castiel could grapple with the realization that his parents had died. Those who’d hurt him were nothing close to his mother and father, merely shells for the monsters to fill.

And maybe there had been just the anger. The frustration at no longer having a place to call home, or loved ones to spend the holidays with, or even friends. He butted heads with Balthazar but they never truly fought. Balthazar was good to him, and Castiel owed him his life. Balthazar had taught him everything he needed to know about hunting and bought him books to keep himself up to par with regular students his age while they trekked through the country, hunting and saving innocent people.

Without a doubt while on hunts Castiel had lost a few innocents. There was the one man in Georgia, cursed by a witch doctor who they didn’t find in enough time to reverse the spell. And the lady from Mississippi who’d unintentionally sold her soul to cure her daughter of Leukemia. But back then, there was only anger and frustration at himself, for his own failures as a hunter. Never at anything else.

Maybe Castiel had gone through those stages of grief when they’d lost Balthazar three years ago. Truly, Castiel couldn’t remember. He had Dean during those years to help him through everything. And then it had started to slip through his fingers again.

Six months had passed since the Hell Hounds took Dean, and Castiel was somewhat past the point of anger. Most of the time, if he was honest with himself, he was tired. He and Sam would pour over books and tomes for hours, trying to gleam some way into Hell from myths, legends and folklore. Every culture had a tale about Hell, how to get in and how to get out. No way was easy or pleasant or even guaranteed making it back out in one piece. They’d rearranged Bobby’s entire cellar, cataloged the books he had, the ones he’d gained from friends and the books he’d “borrowed.” They even remade and restocked the weapons cabinet.

Each night, Sam would leave Castiel in the cellar, or the living room and trek up the stairs to sleep for a few hours. Most nights, Castiel had no trouble getting a few minutes sleep while slumped on the couch or bent over the table, using a book as a pillow, and holding on to a bottle of beer or a glass of whiskey. Tonight though, Castiel needed a bed.

The tequila he’d found tucked back behind the sofa was coursing through his system. It drummed against his skull, making the letters on the page swirl into some prehistoric Celtic dialect he couldn’t even read let alone translate at this hour. If he didn’t lie down and sleep tonight, he’d be even worse for wear in the morning. He was already screwed from the bottle of tequila. Castiel glared at it, saw that there was enough left for one more glass, and decided to take it with him upstairs to their room.

Their room.

His room.

It was Dean’s room, technically speaking, but over the past three years, Castiel had started to call it their room. Castiel sat down hard on the bed, a few of the springs squeaking beneath the sudden weight. The tequila bottle was clutched in his fingers, and he stared down the end of the bottle. He had one more swig, and that was it. Castiel sighed and tipped the bottle back, leaving it empty on the floor. He tugged off his shirt and his jeans, collapsing back onto his pillow and shutting his eyes tight.

He didn’t want to look at the room. He didn’t want to see everything that remained untouched of Dean’s because Castiel didn’t have the heart to put things away. It wasn’t his own room, it was Dean’s room—it was their room. It was a place Castiel had finally started to call home, a place of peace, sanctuary, warmth and comfort. Now, even at the end of a grueling hot summer, under the soft sheets and the breeze from the ceiling fan, the room felt cold, empty, hollow.

Many nights Castiel tossed and turned. He could never sleep comfortably in this bed. Not when the mattress dipped in the middle and he always ended up on Dean’s side of the bed by morning, waking up with the feeling of Dean’s shoulder under his cheek only to open his eyes to an empty pillow. On those mornings—even if it was dark out still— Castiel would toss himself out of bed, go downstairs and attempt to read. Or he’d feel that urge in his chest again, that gaping hole that begged to be filled, and somehow Castiel would be able to find exactly what he was looking for, and he’d drink the whole bottle. That would knock him out wherever he sat down, and that would be where he’d wake up the next morning. Only to do it all over again the next day.

If only he had one more night to spend—

Castiel scoffed at the thought and rolled onto his side, facing away from Dean’s end of the bed. Maybe he was a bit further along in the stages then he thought. Wasn’t reasoning and bargaining one of the last stages of grief? Maybe he ought to go down to the nearest cross-road and offer an exchange. His soul was worth more in Hell. Dean had said so, that was why Dean couldn’t get the full ten years of a typical demon deal.

Castiel rolled in the bed again, ending up on his stomach, his face naturally falling to where Dean would be sleeping beside him. He opened his eyes, staring at the empty pillow. Would the demon even take the deal? Would he have any time with Dean at all if he made the exchange? Dean would never forgive him for it if Castiel tried.

Silently, Castiel shook his head. He reached out to the cold edge of the bed, as if touching that side of the sheet would grant him relief. He was tired. He just wanted to sleep.

But sleep was difficult now. Castiel had grown “attached” as Balthazar would say. He’d grown used to a warm body resting next to his, to holding Dean in his arms at night, or at the very least having his head resting on Dean’s chest. Castiel had grown used to the sounds of his breath ghosting over his ears and even his soft snores in the early mornings after a long hunt. All of that Castiel had, and it chased away all the evil, all the monstrous things that stirred in the darkness, all the terror that lined the edges of his mind.

Castiel had never told him that. Never had a chance to explain how much Dean had saved him, how much Castiel probably deserved to stay in Hell.

Castiel growled at himself, frustrated at the thought and suddenly angry that he’d let this happen. He should have done something the instant he’d found out about the deal. He should have gone to the nearest cross-road and the made the exchange. Dean didn’t deserve Hell. Dean didn’t deserve anything that came along with Castiel and his shitty hunter life.

Tears pricked at his eyes, and his limbs suddenly grew numb. The anger left him as quickly as it came. The second wave of tequila was hitting him, and his brain buzzed with the hum of alcohol in his blood. His body remembered how tired he was, how he’d only managed to get ten hours of sleep in the past eight days. Castiel fell back against his pillow, drifting back into something of unconsciousness. The alcohol took over from there.

 

 

\---------------

****

 

**_Teeth._ **

**_Those were sharp teeth biting into his skin, clamping down on his waist, tearing through flesh. His skin pulled painfully as he tried to break free._ **

**_Hot paws slammed onto his legs and his chest. They forced him into the ground. They kept him in place. Dull nails pushed onto his chest as the teeth gouged into his side._ **

**_His body twitched in pain as the hound snapped its jaw away. He could feel the warm blood pooling at his back, running down his leg, soaking his clothes._ **

**_Something caught his shoulder. Something that pierced through his arm, snagging his neck, yanking at his skin, pulling a piece off—_ **

**_Screams._ **

**_He could hear the screams. Dozens, hundreds. People crying out from every direction, shrieking, begging, pleading for help. For mercy. For death._ **

**_Fire._ **

**_The fire burned everywhere and nowhere at once. The smell of singed hair, roasted skin and thick black smoke filled his nose, his lungs, his throat. All he could taste was burnt charcoal and ash and sulfur._ **

**_And the pain._ **

**_There was so much pain, so much agony and pure suffering. He could feel it all. Each nerve was set on edge by something he couldn’t exactly see. There was too much fire. There was too much blood. He could feel it covering his arms. It made his hands and his waist sticky and wet. But he was numb to it all. The blood was normal. The pain was normal._ **

**_Something tugged at his shoulder._ **

**_Someone was laughing as pain lanced through his body again. The laughter was loud, close, familiar and it rang in his ears as loud as his own scream—_ **

 

 

Castiel shot up in his bed.

His ears were ringing, his chest heaving with gasped breaths as the dark images faded from his mind. They were gone the instant Castiel tried to catch them to make any sense of what he saw. His ears continued to ring though, even as he rubbed his face free of the clammy cold sweat streaking down from his brow.

He tossed aside the sheets and fumbled out of bed once he’d caught his breath. He had no idea what time it really was, but there was no way he could go back to sleep. Not at the rate his heart was going. Might as well start the day.

The ringing didn’t stop, even when he was under the running water of the shower. The water was cold against Castiel’s clammy skin. He felt hot under the water, and the coolness didn’t seem to help any. It was uncomfortable, but Castiel ignored it as he soaped down, scrubbed the last bit of shampoo through his hair and turned off the tap.

That ringing was getting on his nerve. It was there, in his ears like water he couldn’t shake out. Castiel tried to ignore it as he dried himself off and walked back into the bedroom.

Sunlight was barely starting to peak over the skyline and through the blinds covering the bedroom windows. For the most part, everything was in that blue-gray shade of the early morning hours.

Castiel reached for his phone to check the time. 6:46 am. And he had two missed calls, but the number wasn’t one he knew. Castiel sighed and tossed his phone back onto the bed. He hadn’t heard it ring at all last night. But then again Castiel couldn’t really remember coming upstairs either. The empty bottle of tequila resting on the floor near the bedside table reminded him why everything from last night was a blur. Castiel let out a soft groan as he buttoned his jeans over his hips.

He was about to reach for his shirt, when the sound of a key in the front door stopped him.  He froze, listening to the noises downstairs. After a second, Castiel realized it wasn’t a key—it sounded like someone was picking the lock.

Barefooted and shirtless, Castiel moved quickly, reaching under his pillow for his gun. He clicked it loaded as the front door snapped open.

This wasn’t Sam. Sam had a key, for starters, and he’d left for a hunt yesterday. Even if he’d finished early, it was unlikely that Sam would be coming back to the house at six in the morning.

Heavy footsteps padded through the hallway downstairs as Castiel moved to his door. He waited until the steps passed the stairway, and then slipped out of the bedroom. The footsteps continued into the kitchen, and the intruder was rummaging through the fridge as Castiel crept silently down the stairs.

The click of beer cans moving around on the racks in the fridge masked Castiel’s footsteps as the old floorboards creaked beneath him. He kept himself pressed tightly along the wall, ignoring his racing heart, and snapping into the dark kitchen at the last possible second to surprise the intruder.

Ten things happened at once. His gun was disarmed while in his hands, the magazine clip clattering to the floor and kicked under the table. Then at some point he lost the gun entirely. Castiel faintly heard it crash against the bottom of the fridge. There were punches, elbows to the ribcage, and then Castiel was backed into the corner of the kitchen. One hand was clamped over his wrist, keeping his hand above his head along the wall; the other arm was crooked up under Castiel’s neck, their bodies flushed together along the wall.

“Cas, it’s me!” The gruff voice in the dim kitchen made Castiel tense all over. The room was silent except for their breathing and Castiel felt the ringing start up again in his ears.

That _voice_. But no, no, that couldn’t be right.

Castiel tossed his head forward, knocking as hard as he dared into the shadowed face in front of him.

The man staggered back, releasing his grip on Castiel. In one motion, Castiel flipped on the lights, snagged the shotgun from the corner of the living room where Bobby always kept one, and aimed it straight at—

Dean.


	2. Like You've Seen a Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut in this chapter, so tread carefully if reading at work ;)

Castiel blinked roughly as a shudder ran through him. He only clenched the shot gun tighter to his shoulder as he kept it pointed at Dean.

 _No_ , he had to remind himself. Not Dean.

It couldn’t be Dean. It had to be a trick. A demon got a hold of Dean’s body, or some monster was taking his form. A shape-shifter, or a ghoul—

“Cas, I swear it’s me.” That was Dean’s voice. And that was Dean’s body.

Castiel was pointing a gun at Dean—but—no! It wasn’t. Castiel cocked back the shot gun and Dean staggered back a step.

“Wait, wait, listen!” Dean waved a hand frantically, but he kept his voice low enough that only Castiel could hear him. “Your birthday is August 20th, you were born in Pontiac Illinois. You had an older sister named Anna, and you started hunting with Balthazar after your family was killed by ghouls when you were twelve.”

Castiel swallowed roughly. Any demon could know that. The ghoul would know that too. Even a shape shifter would have some of Dean’s memories. Castiel glared along the barrel of the shotgun, and Dean glanced around quickly.

“Okay, look!” Dean shifted enough to grab the silver knife off the kitchen counter. He rolled up the sleeve of his dirty flannel to drag the knife against his arm, cutting his skin effortlessly. “See, not a monster.” He muttered as the blood rolled down his skin. No reaction to silver. Not a shape-shifter or a ghoul.

“Then you’re a demon.” Castiel hissed. In two steps, Castiel reached forward, snagged Dean’s collar and threw him into the living room. He should have been stuck to the rug. But Dean stumbled all the way through and fell against Bobby’s desk, well past the devil’s trap painted on the hardwood floor.

Dean was human. And he wasn’t possessed.

“Damn it Cas, it’s me!” Dean half barked as he stood up straight.

Castiel kept the gun pressed into his shoulder but it shook in his hands.

“I swear man, look!” Dean added, tearing off his flannel entirely to show Castiel the mark in his elbow. “See? If I was a monster, I wouldn’t have this. I’m not a demon! I didn’t get stuck in the trap. It’s really me Cas.”

“That’s…not possible.” Castiel whispered. There it was though.

Nestled in the crook of Dean’s elbow was the thick dark mark, rounded at one end with a thin tail at the other like a comet. It was his mark. _Their mark_. And Dean even had the faint scar running through his, an exact match to Castiel’s. Dean gave him a half smile as Castiel lowered his gun.

“No.” Castiel mumbled as he pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes. No, this couldn’t be real. There was no way this was real. He was dreaming. That was it. This was a dream. He drank tequila last night. He was probably out cold, collapsed on the couch downstairs and this was one more to add to his pile of drunk-induced dreams. He just needed to wake up—

“Cas! Stop!” Dean was on him when Castiel opened his eyes again. The shot gun fell to the ground as Dean clutched his shoulders, yanking Castiel closer to kiss him soundly on the mouth. The touch of Dean’s hands on his bare shoulders sent a shock straight to Castiel’s chest. He nearly staggered back at the force of Dean’s embrace, but Dean wouldn’t let him budge, sliding one hand around Castiel’s waist as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

The kiss was harsh, but Castiel could feel the desperation behind it. He felt how badly Dean wanted to spend all day kissing him, wanted to prove to himself and to Castiel that he was alive, he was here. Dean held him so tightly, and kissed so roughly, like he was afraid. Afraid if he let go, Castiel would disappear. But that was exactly how Castiel felt. That didn’t make sense. How could Dean sense his emotions? How—

Dean bit gently at his bottom lip, quick, light, only enough to grab a breath of air and then his lips were back on Castiel’s will full force. His fingers rubbed circles into Castiel’s shoulders and his hip, sending tiny wave after wave of soothing heat down his body. Castiel lost hold on his reason then. His mind gave up entirely and his heart leapt up to take the reins. Of course his heart knew without a doubt; _this was Dean_.

This was how Dean always kissed, with one hand brushing over Castiel’s cheek, and tilting his head perfectly to meet Castiel at each press of their lips. This was how Dean held him, a hand around Castiel’s waist to keep them together from the hips down. It couldn’t be anyone else or anything else. No one else knew of the tender spot on Castiel’s neck where Dean was now sucking hard below his jaw. No one else scraped at the edge of Castiel’s waist hard enough to leave red streaks in his tanned skin, sending another wave of desire through Castiel that he hadn’t felt in months.

“Dean….” Castiel let the name slip, and Dean pulled away only enough to stare at him. His eyes were blown wide, but the bright green was there among the freckles and the dark blond hair almost hanging in his vision. “How?” Castiel whispered. How could Dean be standing in front of him right now? How could Dean be holding him and smiling like an idiot?

“I don’t know.” Dean admitted, but he laughed quietly.

“But you’re really—”

“Yea Cas,” Dean murmured against his lips. “It’s me.”

Castiel damn near crumbled in Dean’s arms. He fisted one hand in Dean’s t-shirt and yanked. Dean grunted at the tug, crashing into Castiel with enough force to bust Castiel’s lip. He couldn’t care less at the tang of iron on his tongue when Dean’s was pushing past his lips, sucking down the moan that Castiel let out. He didn’t care. He only cared that Dean was barely an inch away from him. He raked his fingers through Dean’s hair, drawing him closer, and Dean stumbled forward, walking them straight across the living room. Castiel sucked in a sharp breath when his back hit the edge of the four-foot tall bookcase near the kitchen doorway.

Castiel tried to push Dean back, but he already had an arm under Castiel. Dean picked him up like he weighed nothing, setting him on the top of the bookcase, and knocking away a few papers in the process. Dean surged to him, pushing himself between Castiel’s legs, grabbing at his thighs and nipping at his lips. The kissing didn’t stop. There were sloppy and wet. They were passionate and Dean bit at his mouth as often as he kissed.

Castiel couldn’t get enough of how Dean tasted. It was like nothing had changed. Dean grabbed at him like he always did. As if it hadn’t been six months after Dean’s death. No, it felt like they’d just barely made it out of a hunt and Dean couldn’t stand being even a breath away from him. Castiel wasn’t sure who ripped off Dean’s shirt, but he knew that now his hands were digging against hot skin while Dean shoved at him over and over, bucking Castiel harder into the wall.

“Bedroom.” Castiel growled.

“No fucking way.” Dean muttered, teeth crazing along Castiel’s neck roughly while his hands dragged down the side of Castiel’s chest.

“If Bobby sees you—” Castiel grunted as Dean leaned forward enough that he could feel the hard bulge in Dean’s jean to match his own. He lost the thought entirely when Dean dragged his waist forward, lining them together perfectly despite the thick jeans in the way.

“Dean…” Castiel huffed. His head fell back on the wall, but Dean wouldn’t stop. Dean’s lips trailed down his neck, nipping and sucking down to his collar bone, his chest, like it was the last thing he’d ever do.

“If we wake up Bobby,” Castiel gasped as Dean’s tongue swiped over his nipple, sucking when Castiel tried to talk again. Castiel gasped when Dean’s teeth grazed his skin. “Upstairs.” Castiel finally growled.

He had to fist his fingers in Dean’s hair to get that damned mouth off his body for two seconds. Dean grinned at the harsh tug, his fingers clutching at Castiel’s belt-loops even though Castiel swiped his leg forward, putting distance between them. Castiel slipped down from the bookcase, clutching Dean’s hair a bit tighter when he tried to move.

“Upstairs,” Castiel repeated quietly. “Now.” He pushed Dean back a step as he let go. Dean rolled his neck slowly but that smirk never left his face.   

They barely made it up the stairs before Dean was on top of Castiel again, pinning him to the bedroom door. Castiel wasn’t even sure how he managed to open the damn thing when Dean’s tongue was fucking into his mouth. Dean seemed to enjoy tracing his lips and sliding his tongue along Castiel’s, even while the door fell away from them. Dean kept him steady as Castiel barreled backwards, and Dean’s hands raked down his body as they fell.

Dean made sure that they landed on the bed, and they both laughed quietly when they bumped heads from the bounce of the bedspring popping. Dean never stopped touching him though, and Castiel couldn’t believe it. He was afraid to shut his eyes because if this was another one of his drunk-dreams—

Dean’s nails scraped down his side and Castiel arched into the touch, losing the rest of his thought. Dean chuckled, and Castiel only had a second to worry about that sinister smirk on Dean’s face. The next second, Dean’s hand clamped down over his mark.

Castiel held back a groan at the heat that coursed through him, and Dean kissed him roughly, forcing the moan out anyway. Castiel fumbled to find Dean’s arm as the heat pooled in his chest. It was heavy, hot, almost unbearable, but there was something in his chest now that burned better than any drink. Castiel almost couldn’t breathe as Dean turned his arm gently so Castiel could press his thumb into Dean’s mark.

Castiel shuddered, and he felt it vibrate all the way back to Dean. Castiel grinned despite the overwhelming heat in his ribs. Dean was smiling down at him, rubbing soothing circles into Castiel’s arm as a tender bond reformed between them. If there was any remaining doubt in Castiel’s mind about Dean, it was gone now.

This was Dean. This was his match, back from Hell, safe and sound, in his arms. That pulsing heat shoved the ache from his chest. The numbness that had settled in Castiel’s ribs over the past six months melted away under Dean’s kisses, Dean’s touch, and the soft words he was muttering over and over again in Castiel’s ear.

“I’m sorry Cas.” Dean kissed along his shoulder and neck. “I’m so sorry. I love you.” Dean kissed up his jaw, finding his lips again and kissing as hard as he could. “Love you, love you…” It was too much, but not enough at the same time. Castiel was reminded of the annoying layers remaining between them when Dean slotted himself back between Castiel’s legs.

“Dean. Jeans. Now.” Castiel grunted, breaking the kiss enough to breathe. Dean’s lips continued to move all the way down Castiel’s neck as they each fumbled with the buttons on their jeans. Castiel managed to get Dean’s undone first, and this time he felt the fabric tear slightly as he forced it away. Dean chuckled deeply at that, his hands sliding under Castiel’s now open jeans and pushing them down steadily.

“Miss me tiger?” Dean wondered softly.

Castiel simply glared at him. Once the jeans were off, Castiel pulled Dean down so hard, they actually flipped over the bed. Castiel had Dean pinned. And he would have stayed there if it weren’t for the panic that suddenly shot through Dean strong enough that Castiel felt it.

“Dean?” Castiel frowned, because the panic had flashed and then it was gone like a sudden burst of flame. Dean bucked when Castiel eased up, and he found himself slammed back beneath Dean.

“Not this time.” Dean growled, biting harshly at Castiel’s neck. His fingers dug into Castiel’s waist with enough force to break skin, and Castiel sucked in a breath at the first prick of pain. It molded into pleasure at the next grind of Dean’s hips. Castiel arched, baring his neck as Dean continued to bite and to kiss, all the while grinding hard between his legs.

“Dean…” Castiel moaned as Dean ripped off their boxers and shoved Castiel back into the bed. Rough. He was being so rough. Castiel didn’t know whether to enjoy it, or be worried. Dean abandoned his mission to suck along Castiel’s neck in favor of sucking on his own two fingers. Castiel swallowed at the sight, but he nodded when Dean caught his eye again. He shifted on the bed, keeping his arm wrapped around Dean’s neck, but spreading his legs enough that Dean had no problem brushing his wet fingers against Castiel’s hole.

So long. It had been so long since they’d done this that at first it burned. Dean would usually give Castiel time to adjust, time to relax, but this time he didn’t. Dean kept thrusting his fingers in a steady rhythm against the burn. Only when Castiel visibly winced did Dean ease up, kissing Castiel’s forehead tenderly.

“Sorry. Got a little carried away there.” Dean murmured quietly, and that helped Castiel relax. That was the Dean he knew, sweet and loving and playful in bed, only rough on a few occasions. Castiel gasped quietly as Dean crooked a finger, sending jolts down Castiel’s spine.

“Dean…” Castiel panted. The sharp burn was gone. Dean’s fingers felt good, but it wasn’t enough. Not when Castiel could feel how hard Dean was on top of him. “Dean.” Castiel groaned, and Dean chuckled deeply against Castiel’s lips.

“Something you want Cas?” Dean wondered.

“Fuck.” Castiel muttered, and he shook his head. No today. Not now. He couldn’t play the games. He needed Dean too much. It was all too much. Dean was here. Dean was alive, and naked in front of him. Castiel was only thinking about that and nothing else. Castiel could practically feel Dean smirking smugly.

“I’m gonna need a little more than spit for that.” Dean told him.

“I haven’t moved anything.” Castiel muttered, opening his eyes enough to glance at the nightstand. Dean grinned and reached over quickly to fumble in the draw. Castiel smiled, and he let his hand trail down Dean’s waist, grabbing his hard cock tightly at the last possible second. Just as he knew Dean was close to reaching the bottle of lubricant, Castiel gave him a nice squeeze.

“Cas,” Dean practically growled, getting what he was searching for and slamming the draw shut.

Castiel smiled as Dean lost his resolve for a moment, closing his eyes as Castiel stroked Dean hard enough that precome dripped onto his stomach. “Cas.” That time it sounded like a warning. Castiel eased up only a second before Dean snapped his hand away, pinning it above his head among the pillows.

Castiel sucked in a breath as his body arched into Dean’s touch. Dean’s expression was hard again, eyes blown dark in the breaking morning sunlight. Castiel held his gaze, breathing shallowly as he heard the pop of the bottle and felt a few drops of the cold lube along his hip. Dean shifted, keeping Castiel’s arm pinned with one hand, using the other hand to guide himself between Castiel’s legs.

Dean didn’t blink as he pushed forward, watching carefully as Castiel’s jaw fell open when Dean slid inside him. How could he have forgotten what this felt like? Castiel couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt Dean this hard, sliding this slowly into him. It burned but Dean was moving so steady, so gentle and slow—

“Fuck.” Dean swore, his expression finally crippling and his grip on Castiel’s wrist loosening. Castiel could only nod in agreement, and Dean started stroking. At first it was too much. Too much burn, too hard, too deep, but Castiel fought against wincing because it felt too damn good to be feeling _something_ other than that numbness in his chest.

There was fire licking up his sides. Electricity ran down his spine, leaving bursting stars under his skin wherever Dean touched him. His heart was pounding on his ribs. Having Dean on top of him, hot and hard, caressing with one hand and kissing Castiel all over as he stroked felt too good. Being able to hold him, to wrap his arms around Dean’s waist as his hips snapped forward made it all the more real.

Dean’s hand left his arm entirely to grab at Castiel’s hip, thrusting harder, filling Castiel to the brink. Castiel wasn’t sure where he ended, and where Dean started. The bed was creaking softly in sync with Dean’s strokes, and Castiel’s breaths were harsh along Dean’s mouth. Dean slipped forward, covering Castiel completely with his body, thrusting deeper and pressing roughly against Castiel’s hard cock.

“Dean!” Castiel muffled his moan, burying his face into Dean’s shoulder, clutching at his arms and back. That felt good. That felt so damn good. He could feel each slide of Dean’s cock inside of him, filling him deep with each thrust, each snap of Dean’s hips.

“Harder,” Castiel moaned. He was close. So very close, and Dean wasn’t close enough. Castiel grabbed at his waist, his back, his shoulder, his arms, drawing him closer, wanting him deeper. Dean didn’t deny him, even when Castiel’s nails dug hard enough to break skin. There was something there. Something raised over Dean’s shoulder, but Castiel lost track of his thought at Dean’s next thrust.

Something like electricity rocked through Castiel. It made him arch as Dean slammed into him again. Castiel’s mouth fell open in a silent scream as the sensation zapped through him, and he came undone between them. Dean sucked in a breath, feeling Castiel clamp down over him in every way.

“Cas— _fuck_ —” Dean murmured into his ear. His hands gripped Castiel as he slammed forward again, rocking into Castiel hard one last time. Castiel threw his head back into the pillow as Dean bit at his neck while he spilled into Castiel. Sweat ran down Castiel’s forehead, and for a while they stayed that way, wrapped in each other’s arms, Dean breathing roughly against his neck.

“You okay?” Dean murmured.

“Yes.” Castiel nodded gently, his answer leaving him on a sigh as his body steadily relaxed. “Better than I’ve been in a long time.” Castiel admitted.

Dean picked his head up, smiling down at Castiel with a look of pure bliss dancing in his gaze. “Told you it was me.” Dean murmured with that same smile as Castiel reached up to stroke his thumb along Dean’s cheek.

“I know. But I don’t understand how.” Castiel sighed.

Dean pulled away from him slowly, and once again Castiel fought back a wince. Dean only stayed away long enough to grab one of their boxers to wipe them down. He came back the next second, wrapping Castiel in his arms and tugging the covers over both of them.

“I dunno either Cas.” Dean admitted. “I woke up in my damn coffin planted in the middle of a field.”

Castiel rested his head on the pillow, facing Dean as his hand stroked up and down his arm. “That’s not right.” Castiel murmured. “We buried you in a forest, just outside my home city.”

“All the trees were knocked down when I got topside.” Dean told him.

“Was there anything else?” Castiel wondered. “Anything unusual?”

Dean thought for a moment, closing his eyes as Castiel’s hand brushed over his neck, his thumb rubbing his jaw gently. “I uh, busted into a small gas station half a mile down, looking for anyone to give me a hand. Then I realized how late it was, and figured no one could care if I snatched a few things.” Dean admitted. “I was grabbing some change for the payphone outside, and there was this, uh, this ringing. It made the radio station go haywire and turned on the TV to some static channel. It got so loud, it shattered every piece of glass in a freaking three mile radius I swear—”

“Ringing?” Castiel frowned.

“Yea. Like high-pitched noise that could make your ears bleed and probably kill a dog.” Dean nodded and Castiel tried not to tense. That was almost like the ringing he’d heard this morning when he woke up. But how could he have heard it then? They’d only just bonded again. Castiel shouldn’t have felt anything from Dean.

“I uh,” Dean scrubbed his face roughly and went back to rubbing Castiel’s shoulder as they lay beneath the covers. “I tried calling Sammy. He didn’t answer.”

“He’s out on a case.” Castiel told him quietly, sighing contently in the warmth of Dean’s arms. “He left yesterday. When did you wake up?”

“Dunno. Took me about six hours to get here.” Dean answered. “And I was hauling ass in the POS I snagged from the gas station.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Castiel wondered.

“I did.” Dean murmured softly.

Suddenly, Castiel remembered his phone. The unknown numbers. That was Dean?

“Both numbers went to voicemail.” Dean continued as Castiel sat up slowly. “Didn’t have enough change to call Bobby. So I jacked a car and drove myself here.”

Castiel fumbled around the covers, patting the dark blankets in search for his phone. Things were starting to click in his mind. What time had Dean called him? When had Sam left? Castiel shoved the covers aside, and the soft clatter of his phone hitting the floor caught his attention.

“Cas?” Dean questioned quietly as Castiel snatched his phone from the floor.

“You called me at midnight.” Castiel said, clicking through the call log on his phone. “I need to call Sam.” He murmured.

“Cas, it’s not even eight in the morning.” Dean reasoned, glancing at the night-stand clock. “He’s not going to be up.”

“I’ll wake him up then.” Castiel retorted. “He left yesterday on a case he didn’t want to tell me about and you show up ten hours later. That can’t be a coincidence.” Castiel told him, dread swelling in his chest.  Dialing Sam’s number, Castiel pressed the phone to his ear. While he waited for Sam to answer, he gathered his clothes up from the floor, tossing them onto the foot of the bed.

Dean watched him carefully, his expression blank where a few seconds ago it had been blissful and happy. “You think he had something to do with bringing me back?” Dean wondered.

“I think it’s been six months Dean.” Castiel muttered as the phone continued to ring in his ear. “And we were running out of ideas to free you without making another deal.”

The first call failed and went straight to voicemail. He hung up and quickly redialed while Dean sighed and pulled himself out from the bed to get dressed. On the fourth ring, Castiel nearly hung up to call again, but Sam finally answered.

 _“Cas?”_ Sam groaned in frustration.

Castiel could tell he was half asleep, groaning at the fact that this phone call woke him.  “Sam.” Castiel sighed, and Dean turned to watch him. “Where are you? That case you said you’re working, where is it?”

 _“Um. Just outside of Pontiac.”_ Sam admitted quietly. _“Figured it would hit too close to home for you, so I took the job myself.”_ Sam explained. _“Sorry I didn’t tell you yesterday but—”_

“It’s fine.” Castiel answered sharply, looking down at his jeans in his fist.

 _“Is everything okay Cas?”_ Sam asked carefully.

Castiel glanced over at Dean as Sam’s question rang in his ears. “I’ll explain when I get there.” Castiel promised, and he hung up the phone before Sam could ask any more questions. For a moment, Castiel stared at his phone. This city was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. “He’s outside of Pontiac.” Castiel explained when he glanced up to find Dean staring at him. “Probably not far from where we buried you.”

“Damn it Sam.” Dean muttered under his breath. Castiel nodded in agreement. Dean turned to grab his jeans, and that’s when Castiel caught sight of it. The bump on Dean’s back was a raised scar. It was above Dean’s shoulder blade on his right side, and it looked like a burn. A burn in the shape of a small hand print.

“Dean?” Castiel called quietly. “There’s something on your shoulder.” Castiel stepped forward quickly to get a better look, and Dean froze under his hands. Castiel’s fingers ghosted over the scar and Dean shuddered lightly at the touch. “Where did this come from?”

“What is it?” Dean asked. He turned his head, looking from Cas to his shoulder, trying to see.

“Looks like a burn.” Castiel muttered. “Only in the shape of a hand print.” Castiel added, pressing each finger in line with the burn. His hand was much bigger and covered it easily. Something hummed under the surface, and the ringing started back in Castiel’s ears.

Dean snapped away from Castiel’s touch. He walked over to his dresser, grabbing a plain white t-shirt to pull over his head. “It’s probably nothing.”

Castiel flexed his fingers as they tingled like he’d just touched an outlet with a metal fork. Dean flattened out the creases in his shirt as he turned to face Castiel entirely.

“So we going?” Dean wondered, his eyes raking down Castiel from his shoulders to his legs and back up again. Castiel frowned at the sudden smirk on Dean’s face. It was then that Castiel realized he was still completely naked.

“You know how long of a drive it is to Illinois.” Castiel murmured, his gaze fixed on Dean’s face. Even in the soft morning light, Castiel could make out the shadows under Dean’s eyes. And his shoulders were even hanging awkwardly, like it was too much effort to hold himself upright.  

“We could rest for a little while.” Cas offered.

Dean smiled lightly, drawing Cas back into his arms. “Been asleep for six months.” He murmured as he kissed Castiel gently. “I can handle a few more hours if you’re driving. Besides, we better make sure Sammy didn’t fuck himself over while I was gone.” Dean added as he pulled away from Castiel enough to toss the hunter his jeans. “I’ll go make coffee.” Dean added.

Castiel nodded agreement, watching silently as Dean left the room. “Watch out for Bobby.” Castiel muttered quietly under his breath. Honestly, he did not want to be down there for that confrontation.

 

 

\--------------------------------

 

 

“Mm, how long have you been holding that one back big boy?” She asked him as she laughed breathlessly on the other side of the bed. Sam held back a smirk, closing his eyes in something of contentment for a few seconds. “Oh so now you’re gonna give me the cold shoulder? I only mentioned that you looked a little green after that last—”

“I’m fine.” Sam muttered.

“Yea, _now_ you are.” She stressed. “But how much longer do you wanna keep on the training wheels kiddo?”

Sam didn’t answer her. He stared up at the ceiling of their motel room, which was partly covered in mirrors. Some of these motel rises were strange. No, strange didn’t exactly cover it. This one was a theme motel, and some idiot thought the 70’s were great for room décor. The blanket on the bed was striped black and orange, the throw pillows had fake fur on one side. And of course, there were mirrors on the ceiling.

The brunette at his side sighed roughly and snapped away the covers, walking completely naked across the suite and into the bathroom. When Sam heard the water running, he sighed in defeat, silently following her.

They’d finished their shower and were getting dressed when someone knocked on their door. Sam frowned as he smoothed his shirt over his shoulders. As she walked across the room to answer the door, Sam reached for the knife off the nightstand, tucking it into his back pocket.

“Uh, hi. Can I help you?” She asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

“Who is—” Sam stopped as he noticed Castiel standing in the doorway.

The black leather jacket, dark red shirt, torn jeans and side-arm didn’t stop Sam cold in his tracks. It was the man a step behind Cas, wearing a tan button-down over a black t-shirt, loose jeans and old hiking boots. It was the warm smile on his face that was somewhere between pleased and pissed as bright green eyes trailed over Sam’s face to his chest and back again. Sam had seen that smile a hundred times over, but right now, he couldn’t believe it.

“Hiya Sammy.” Dean pushed past the girl to stride into the room.

Sam wasn’t sure if he was breathing. He glanced at Castiel. The hunter stayed where he was, leaning against the doorway. Castiel tossed a confused eye at the girl standing between them wearing just her tank top and boy shorts, but otherwise said nothing. Sam wasn’t sure if he should be worried or not. Cas wasn’t smiling. If this was Dean, Cas would be grinning like a kid at Christmas.

Slowly at first, because Dean was watching him, Sam reached to his side. Sam took a breath as he fingers closed over the handle of his knife. At the last second, he lunged. Dean—or whatever it was—stopped the blade, but Sam had it pinned against the wall in three steps.

“What are you?” Sam barked over the girl’s surprised scream.

Cas jumped forward, his arms hooking around Sam’s, holding him with strength Sam didn’t know the hunter had. Cas yanked hard, pulling Sam away from the monster or impersonator, or whatever this thing was.

“Sam, he’s not a monster.” Castiel grunted as Sam tried to break free.

“It has to be—!” This couldn’t be his brother. His brother was in Hell.

“I did the same thing Sam!” Castiel promised. The hand on Sam’s wrist was tight, keeping the blade at bay, while the other hooked under his shoulder to keep him from swinging forward with a punch. “This _is_ Dean.”

Sam fell silent at the expression on Castiel’s face. Honesty. Cas was being completely honest; and why would he even lie to Sam about this? Castiel pulled the dagger from Sam’s hand and backed away slowly once Sam’s shoulders relaxed.

“Yea I know.” Dean muttered with that smirk again. “I’m lookin’ pretty fucking good huh?”

Sam almost wanted to punch that smirk off his face. But then it was gone and Dean’s arms hooked over his shoulder, drawing Sam in for a hug. Sam stood in shock for a second. Dean. This was really Dean? His brother was alive, breathing and hugging him tightly. Sam laughed in disbelief, his arm clasping Dean around the shoulders for a few seconds before they pulled away.  

“This was the call at five in the morning?” Sam asked when Dean finally pulled away from him. His gaze wandered over Dean carefully. His arm was fine. His chest rose and fell as he breathed and smiled. He didn’t seem to be walking with a limp or anything either. Sam smiled lightly. There wasn’t a trace of the Hell Hounds attack left on him.

“Yes.” Cas answered. “And if it’s any consolation, Bobby had the same reaction.”

“Dosed me with holy water. Twice.” Dean muttered, holding up his fingers for emphasis. “Cas had the two of you beat though. He came at me with his silver gun, and the shot gun from the living room.”

Sam had to laugh at that despite the shiver that ran down his spine. He didn’t know what was worse, the image of Cas with a shotgun about to shoot down his brother, or the fact that it almost happened.

“I’m sorry, I’m a bit confused.”

Sam tried not to groan as Dean and Castiel turned to face the girl again. This was so not a time for her dramatics, and Sam tried to scowl at her, but she ignored him entirely.

“Are you guys like…a thing?” She asked, glancing between Dean and Sam with a dab of worry on her face. Because, of course, she was supposed to be his night-time hook up right now. That was how Dean would look at it anyway.

“No.” Sam muttered before either Cas or Dean could get a word out. “He’s my brother.”

“Oh.” She murmured, and Sam could tell she wasn’t faking the confusion. “I—I should probably go then.” She added and Sam nodded in eager agreement.

“Yea.” Sam reached behind him for her bag while she slipped on her jeans, and he saw her to the door.

“Call me okay?” She said.

“Sure.” Sam nodded and closed the door the minute she stepped down the hallway. He turned back around to find Castiel flipping through the magazines on the coffee table by the couch, while Dean leaned on the counter near the mini-bar, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. It was like those past five minutes were gone. Dean had been relieved to see him, and now he was pissed.

“So what was the deal Sam?” Dean asked him.

Sam frowned as he glanced between Castiel and his brother. “What deal?”

“Don’t be stupid, the deal to get me out of Hell.” Dean let his arms drop to grab the edges of the counter. “What was it? They’d give me up and get you instead?”

“You think I made a demon deal?” Sam wondered, glaring at Dean. When the hard expression didn’t chip from his brother’s face, Sam turned to Castiel. “You know I didn’t.”

“I know you left two days ago.” Cas told him bluntly. Sam still had trouble figuring out if Cas was being serious with that voice, or if he was being truthfully sarcastic. “And twelve hours later, Dean showed up at my doorstep.”

“I’m not askin’ ya again Sam. What was the deal?” Dean practically shouted. He pushed off the mini-bar counter to glare while two steps away from Sam’s face. Sam saw the anger that flashed across his brother’s eyes, and Sam couldn’t hold back the resentment that swelled in his own chest. He shoved Dean away, shaking his head gently.

“I didn’t make a deal.” Sam kept himself from yelling, but the words were already bubbling up in his throat. “But— _fuck_ —if I didn’t try. I went to the cross-roads probably half a dozen times but none of the demons were willing to deal! Cas and Bobby were the only ones keeping me from opening the damn Devil’s Gate to try and get you out.”

Sam huffed a breath as Dean and Castiel stared at him, one in mild anger, and the other in mild disbelief. “So we figured if we couldn’t pull you out, then maybe we could get in somehow. We interrogated demons day and night, trying to find a way into Hell, or a way to get you out.” Sam spoke as he waved a hand between him and Castiel.

“You did what?” Dean asked, but Sam ignored him.

“But none of those fuckers gave up anything!” Sam felt his voice rising as his anger and frustation swelled in his chest. “We tried everything Dean, and I’m sorry!” Sam shouted. The anger twisted into disappointment in his throat. Because he’d failed. He’d completely failed at getting Dean out of the pit.

Dean stared at him, jaw slacked, arms hanging loosely at his side. Sam let his gaze fall to the floor as he took a deep breath.

“You were in Hell for six months.” Sam swallowed roughly, trying to force the rest of his words out as more than just whispers. “And _nothing_ I did—nothing we did—could break you out. I’m sorry Dean. But it wasn’t me.” Sam swallowed as Dean stepped forward again. He didn’t say anything until Sam picked his gaze up from the floor. Instead of anger, or frustration, there wasn’t anything on Dean’s face, except a trace of a smile and a flicker of relief.

“It’s fine Sammy.” Dean promised with a warm hand clasped on Sam’s shoulder. “I’m back. And I’m glad it didn’t cost you anything. Or you for that matter.” Dean turned to Castiel, who’d remained quiet throughout the majority of the conversation. Sam frowned as Cas rolled his knuckles into his jeans.

“Begs the question though,” Cas sighed. “If it wasn’t Sam, or me, or Bobby, then how’d you break free in the first place?”

Dean’s hand dropped from Sam’s shoulder then. “I don’t know.” Dean shrugged.

“And what were _you_ doing all the way out here?” Cas snapped at Sam, and he jolted slightly. In brief moments like this that Sam was painfully reminded of how well matched Dean and Cas were, because over the past three years, Castiel had become something close to a second-older-brother to him. As if he needed more than one. But still, Castiel’s eyes were hard as they watched him, waiting for an answer.

“Oh, um, that.” Sam rubbed the back of his neck while he shuffled over to the fridge, reaching in to grab a beer for each of them. “Ash gave me a tip on this band of demons he’s been tracking.” Sam explained. “We think they’ve been working for Lilith, trying to bring her back to power. I figured, since we weren’t making any headway with getting Dean free,” Sam reasoned as he handed Dean then Cas a beer. “Might as well make sure the bitch that put Dean in stayed down too.”

Dean smiled thankfully, twisting the top off and taking a healthy gulp. “Wait, you guys killed Lilith that night?” Dean asked.

“Something like that.” Sam spoke carefully. He and Castiel shared a glance while Dean nodded in approval. “Oh, here.” Sam placed his beer on the table, reaching under his shirt to pull off the amulet hanging around his neck. “I figured—well I was hanging on to it. For you.” Sam stumbled over his words as Dean stared at the amulet with wide eyes.

It was like Sam was handing over Dean’s freedom on a leather cord. Dean took the amulet, pulling it over his head quickly, a smile spread on his face as it rested against his collarbone.

“I was wondering where it’d went.” Dean murmured, rolling the charm between his fingers.

“Got your journal in my bag too. Promise I didn’t read all the private stuff.” Sam added with a smirk.

Dean groaned against the beer pressed to his lips. “You need to get your own.” Dean muttered.

“I did.” Sam told him as he grabbed his beer, taking a quick sip. “I was copying over your notes while I was here.”

“Uh-huh, was that before or after you finished interrogating demons?” Dean wondered. His voice was sharp, his eyes narrowed as he looked up from the beer in his hands.

Sam’s smile disappeared slowly as he stared at his brother. Where did that come from all of a sudden?

“Sam wasn’t the one doing the interrogations.” Castiel finally spoke up, catching the two off guard. “A majority of the time, it was me.”

Dean did a double take. Sam saw how the first was a glare, and the second glance was apprehension, but it was gone in a blink. Sam rolled his lips gently, lowering his beer to his knee. Sam wasn’t sure what was putting his brother so on edge, but it was quick to turn the tables before Dean snapped again.

“Look, Dean, we were only doing it to try and find a way to get you out.” Sam spoke quickly as soon as he had his brother’s attention. “These demons I’m tracking now, they’re working for Lilith.  I was gonna take them out. I followed the last coordinates that Ash texted me, and I wound up here.” Sam explained.

Cas sat forward in his seat while Sam talked. Dean took a sip from his beer, glancing at his match long enough to watch him place down an empty bottle on the coffee table. Sam cleared his throat like he needed to cough, snapping Dean’s attention away from the bottle.

“And you guys noticed these demons cropping up….?” Dean trailed off curiously.

“Day before yesterday.” Sam muttered after another gulp of beer. “You think they have something to do with you getting out of Hell?”

“I’m thinking there’s a ton of shit that doesn’t add up right now.” Dean said. “I mean, why would the demons let me loose?”

“I don’t think it was a demon.” Castiel added quickly. Sam frowned in confusion.

“What else could pull me out of Hell?” Dean asked.

“Something powerful enough that it left a mark on you.” Castiel said.

When Sam’s frown only deepened, Cas pointed at his brother. “Dean has a burn on his shoulder. Looks like a hand print. Anything that strong can leave behind some energy.”

“Okay, but how are we supposed to tap into that?” Sam wondered.

“Oh we can’t.” Cas said, smirking lightly at the younger brother. “But a psychic can.” Cas reasoned.

Sam’s face light up in understanding. “Pamela.”

“Pam?” Dean wondered.

“She is a psychic.” Castiel reasoned.

“No, she’s a tattoo artist.” Dean said, to which Sam chuckled around the neck of his beer. “Right? Weren’t the crystal balls and incense just for show? Trying to make the tattoo shop look more mystic and shit.” Dean spoke as he waved his beer bottle softly.

“Oh she’s genuine,” Cas said with a smirk and a tired nod. “I’ll give her a call and see if she can fly in tonight.”

That being said, Cas walked out of the room to make the call in the hallway, leaving Sam and Dean in the bedroom to talk. Dean was nursing his beer, either that or Sam and Cas together had drank enough these past few months that beer went down like water. Sam’s bottle was empty, and he set it on the table as well. If Dean noticed—which Sam didn’t doubt—he didn’t say anything as Sam went to the fridge for another.

“So,” Dean started while Sam’s back was to him. “Who was the brunette?” Dean asked, almost nonchalantly, but Sam saw the hint of a smirk on his lips as he sat back down. “She left this for ya.” He added, picking up a white lacey bra from behind him and tossing it into Sam’s lap.

“Her name was Chrissy—or Christie,” Sam mumbled, tossing the bra onto the bed. “She’s an old friend from Stanford.” The lie rolled effortlessly off his tongue, and Sam swallowed it down with a swig of beer. Dean didn’t think twice of it, only nodded in appreciation.

“Glad to see you’re getting on just fine.” Dean said. Sam wasn’t sure if he meant it or not since he was staring aimlessly at the peeling wrapper on his beer bottle.

“Dean, I was a fucking disaster after that night.” Sam muttered, keeping his voice soft despite the emotions in his chest. “And Cas was twenty times worse.”

“Yea.” Dean sighed. His eyes fell on the table before flickering over to Sam. “I saw how quick he downed that beer.” Dean murmured.

“We were trying everything—” Sam started.

“I know Sam.” Dean cut in, glancing up from his bottle to smile. “It’s fine really. I looked for years trying to break the deal before you guys found out. I knew once I got in, there wasn’t gonna be a way out. It woulda been a miracle if you guys found something.”

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Cas came back into the room then. “She’ll be here in three hours.” He answered.

“Awesome. Gives us time to check out the diner down the road.” Dean suggested, grinning around his beer bottle. “I’m starving.”

Sam couldn’t help it. He laughed. If there had been any tiny bit of doubt in his mind that the man in front of him was Dean, it was now completely gone. Because only his brother could think about getting food at a run-down diner right after coming back from Hell. Sam laughed to himself even as they stood to leave the room, and he knew Castiel was smirking right beside him.


	3. The Words You Said

“I gotta hand it to ya Cas,” Pam sighed as she walked through the door. “You put a girl on a three hour flight and set her up in the room down the hall in a 70’s theme motel? You really know how to treat a lady.”

“We wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important.” Castiel promised, and Pam finally turned to look at the rest of the room. When her eyes landed on Dean, she froze. Dean gave her a half smile and a wave of his fingers.

“Oh shit.” Pam muttered, letting her single duffle bag fall from her fingers. “You got everything I asked for right?” She wondered.

Sam nodded to the table in the corner. It had a black table cloth, candles and incents that Pam had requested. After a quick once over, Pam lit the candles and waved the trio over to the table.

“So you need to know what yanked Dean out of the pit.” She stated.

“Yes. It left a mark.” Castiel started to explain as he took the seat across from Dean, and Sam sat between them across from Pam. The psychic wasn’t exactly listening. Her gaze raked over Dean once, and she smirked while her hand rubbed up his arm. Castiel chewed the inside of his lip when Pam’s hand slipped under Dean’s sleeve to reach his shoulder.

“Uh-huh.” Pam murmured when her hand fell to the edge of Dean’s back near his neck. “You’ll have to take the shirt off babe. I need direct contact with that scar for this to work.”

Dean fought back a smirk, and Castiel’s chair creaked as he sat back heavily while Dean pulled his shirt over his head. Dean’s amulet rested on his now bare chest, and Pam placed her hand over the finger-like marks that crossed Dean’s shoulder and back. Castiel chewed his lips thoughtfully as Pam’s hand seemed to fit almost perfectly, her thumb pressing into the grove between Dean’s neck and shoulder, and her fingers sprawled down his back. Dean gave him a faint wink and Castiel tried to scowl.

“Link your hands.” Pam whispered as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Sam held his hands open, Cas reached around the candles to link his fingers with Dean’s, and they waited. Pam nodded slowly as she began chanting. Out of habit, Cas shut his eyes. “I invoke, conjure and command you to appear onto us before this circle here and now. I invoke, conjure and command you to appear onto us before this circle here and now…”

Over and over Pamela chanted. Sam and Dean exchanged a glance, but after a second, Sam shut his eyes. Dean forced back a sigh as he bowed his head. He felt Castiel clutch at his fingers two seconds before the TV flickered on behind Sam. Dean opened his eyes again to see the radio click on, flickering to a station full of static. He swore under his breath as he felt Castiel slowly panic, and he squeezed back in reassurance.

The ringing started after Pam’s sixth chant. “I—Aniel?”

Castiel gasped as a cheap vase shattered near the mini-fridge. Dean frowned as Castiel’s eyes shot open, confused and worried. Cas was watching Pamela carefully as the ringing grew louder and the station on the radio shrieked through static after static station.

“Who’s Aniel?” Dean asked.

“The one who marked you.” Pam muttered quickly. “Sorry honey, but I’m not that easily spooked!” She added, louder over the growing sounds of static on the TV and the radio. “I invoke, conjure and command you to appear before us here and now!”

“Pam, maybe you should stop.” Sam shouted over her chants. Castiel’s eyes had shut tight again. To Sam, Castiel looked like he was in pain, like the static and the faint ringing were twenty times louder in his ears. Dean was tense, watching Cas carefully and white-knuckling the grip he had with him around the candles.

The table began to shake as Pam’s chants turned to shouts. Cas winced, his hand clutching tight onto Sam now. Dean shook his head stiffly and swallowed. Something was wrong.

“I’ve almost got her.” Pam gritted through her teeth. Her nails dug into Dean’s skin enough that Castiel winced.

“Her?” Dean questioned.

“Aniel.” Pamela shouted over the rumbling room. “I invoke, conjure and command you! Show yourself to me!”

“Shut your eyes!” Castiel gasped. “Shut your eyes now!” He shouted, squeezing Dean’s fingers and Sam’s hand as tightly as he could. Dean ducked his head into his arm, and Sam closed his eyes just as the flames of the candles spiked like someone had tossed lighter fluid on them. Castiel sucked in a breath as Pamela shrieked. The ringing shattered a light bulb somewhere in the room. Pamela collapsed, and Castiel dropped to the floor the instant she fell.

Dean snapped away from Sam to see Pam on the ground, in Castiel’s arms. Blood ran down her face from her eyes, and she whimpered as Castiel held her.

“Sam, call 911!” Dean shouted, giving his brother a shove as he joined Castiel on the ground. “Pam? Pam you okay?”

She groaned, and whimpered as Castiel wound an arm around her neck to support her. It wasn’t until she opened her eyes that she let out a quiet scream again. “I—I can’t see! Oh God, no. I can’t…”

Dean sucked in a harsh breath. Pam’s eyes were gone. There was nothing but burnt skin and blood. Dean lost his breath when Pam reached out. Castiel quickly took her hand, holding her tightly.

“It’s going to be fine Pam.” Castiel told her. “You’ll be fine.” But when Dean caught his gaze, he knew otherwise. Pamela would never see again.

 

 

\---------------------

 

 

Castiel needed another cup of coffee. The one currently in his hands was nearly empty, and they’d only just sat down five minutes ago. Dean and Sam were discussing Pam’s condition quietly across the table. She was now out of ICU, and the doctors said she’d make a full recovery. Except now she was blind, completely and utterly blind. There was nothing left of her eyes for the doctor’s to save, and it was Castiel’s fault. He’d been the one to call her down to perform the séance. He should have agreed with Sam, and he should have pushed Pam to stop.

Especially since he heard the voice among the ringing. There had been a warning, several warnings actually, to not look, and the warning for Castiel to shut his eyes.

“Cas?” Dean’s elbow nudged into his arm and Castiel picked his head up slowly. “Relax, Pam’s going to be fine.” Dean murmured, taking a sip from his own steaming cup of coffee.

“Dean, she’s blind now. Because of me.” Castiel muttered.

“No, she’s blind because of that Aniel bitch.” Dean stated firmly. Castiel couldn’t hold his gaze, so he finished his coffee instead. “Whatever or whoever that thing was, it burned out Pam’s eyes. Not you.”

“So can I start you boys off with something to eat this morning?” The waitress asked, notepad in hand and a somewhat polite smile on her face.

“Gimmie a slice of your best pie.” Dean said, grinning when Sam scoffed and Castiel shook his head.

“Another coffee for me, thank you.” Castiel sighed.

“I’ll bite at the pie.” Sam shrugged, handing back the menus as Castiel slumped further in his seat against the window.

“All right back to business.” Dean murmured once the waitress had walked off with their order. He shifted in his seat, his back towards the rest of the diner, so he could face Castiel and Sam while he talked quietly. “What do you know that has the kinda juice we saw last night? How can we track it and trap it so we can ask it a few questions?”

“Are you serious?” Sam gawked. “That thing took out Pam’s eyes in less than five minutes and you want to hunt it?”

“You got a better idea?” Dean asked, holding his hands out.

“Yea, how about we go and find those black-eyes I’ve been tracking.” Sam said, lowering his voice as the waitress returned with their pie and a second cup of coffee for Cas. “Someone’s bound to know something.”

“That could be like finding a needle in a hay-stack Sam.” Dean muttered. He reached for his fork, but stopped when he realized the waitress sat down in the chair at the head of their table. “Can I help you lady?”

“Thought I’d save you the trouble of searching through all those hay-stacks.” The waitress sighed, and when she tilted her head, her eyes went black.

Castiel held back a groan while both brothers tensed in their seat. This was just their luck.

“So you must be the troublesome trio I’ve heard so much about lately.” The demon said, black eyes gazing over each of them in turn. “Castiel Novak, Sam, and now Dean Winchester. My, my, my. Aren’t you three some lookers.”

Dean put down his fork, leaning his elbows against the table. Castiel sat forward, catching the customer from the counter walking towards the diner doors to lock them shut. When he turned back around, his eyes were black. The second waiter closed the blinds, and Castiel had no doubt his eyes were black as well. Castiel dared a glance over his shoulder, but he couldn’t see if anyone in the kitchen was possessed.

Castiel glared at Sam across the table. That was at least three demons but there could be others in the back, and they didn’t even have their salt guns. Not exactly the best odds. Sam slowly lowered his hand to his waist. Castiel sucked in a quiet breath. Great. They had the dagger at least.

“So tell me Dean,” The demon said, crossing her arms over her chest. “What makes you so special that you managed to go to Hell and come back again so soon?”

“Good question,” Dean answered. “Guess I got out on good behavior.”

“Oh is that so?” The demon chuckled. “You must have been real _friendly_ with your warden.”

Castiel felt something stir in his chest in that one spot that usually meant it was coming from Dean. Something that felt like cold and hot all at once, but it was gone before Castiel could understand it. Dean’s hand dropped to the table.

“Yea, wouldn’t you like to know.” Dean muttered bitterly. “You seem like that freaky type that likes to watch.”

“That pretty mouth of yours is trouble Dean.” The demon snarled. “You know I can drag your ass straight back to Hell for saying that.”

Sam bumped the table, one second away from snapping forward with the dagger. Castiel held up his hand and Dean stiffly shook his head. The demon who’d locked the door was standing guard now, and the third demon was steadily walking back towards their table. Sam clenched his jaw, seeing Castiel’s eyes dart around while Dean stared down the woman in the chair.

“No, you won’t.” Dean nearly laughed at the realization. “You knew who we were the instant we walked into the diner. If you wanted to kill us, you’da done it already. So, either you don’t know what pulled me out, or you do and you’re scared shitless.” Dean nodded slowly, and Castiel could feel the wicked smirk creeping onto his face. Dean moved forward, further down the booth towards the woman. “Either way, that bastard must’ve had some serious mojo to yank me out, am I right? And like you said, I’m special. They wanted me topside.”

“Dean.” Castiel muttered in quietly warning, but Dean obviously wasn’t listening. As he leaned closer, Castiel could swear the demon nearly flinched.

“So let’s test it.” Dean said. “Go ahead. Send me straight back to Hell. You can answer to whoever pulled me out and see how it goes.”

“How about I rip those balls of yours outta that pretty little mouth?” The demon hissed tightly. She wasn’t budging though. That wasn’t typical of demons.

Castiel was about to push Dean out of the booth when he did something insane. He punched the demon straight in the face with enough force that she fell back, chair and all crashing to the floor.

Sam jumped up, Ruby’s knife in his hand ready for a fight that never came. The demon at the door stood where he was, and the waiter merely leaned against a booth further down, watching intently. Dean crouched down as the demon pushed herself out of the chair.

“Yea, that’s what I thought. Something high and mighty you think you are when you’re nothing more than the grime under my boot.” He muttered down to her.

Castiel slipped out of the booth and gripped Dean’s arm, pulling him up from the floor.

“We’re leaving.” Castiel ordered, and he didn’t let go of Dean until they were two steps away from the Impala across the street from the diner. “What the hell were you thinking?” Castiel barked as he tossed Dean towards the car.

“We’re not gonna let them go like that?” Sam asked, staring between Castiel and Dean, waving a hand at the diner.

“There are at least three demons in there, if not more.” Castiel spoke as he faced the younger Winchester. “All we have is the dagger. The rest of our weapons are back in the room. It’s the middle of the day, and Dean—” Castiel reeled but Dean was already holding his hands up in defeat. “You just got back. Are you familiar with the term “Don’t look a gift-horse in the mouth?” What were you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that whatever has demons shaking and pissing their pants is some serious shit.” Dean finally spoke up. “I’m not looking a horse in the mouth—or whatever the hell you just said,” Dean murmured, waving his hand as Castiel rolled his eyes. “I’m looking for some answers, because whatever that Aniel is—”

“It’s serious shit.” Sam repeated. “And there’s a library down the street. You really want answers, you start there.”

“Oh fuck me.” Dean groaned as his head lolled back. “Research really? You’re such a dork.”

“Jerk.” Sam muttered, walking around to the back seat of the Impala.

“Bitch.” Dean mumbled under his breath. Even though Sam smiled lightly, Castiel was glowering at Dean while he walked towards the passenger seat. “Seriously? What is it with you man? You’ve been tense ever since we got here.”

Castiel’s shoulders rose with his tight breath, and after a second, Dean’s expression softened. He nodded in agreement, raising his hand in apology. “Your family. I’m sorry Cas. I didn’t—”

“I am _not_ losing you again. And not to this city too.” Castiel told him, his voice gruff as the words worked around his tight throat. “So if you want to go after Aniel, fine. But we are not going unprepared.”

“Damn it.” Dean sighed as he snapped open the driver-side door. “Okay, library it is.”

 

 

******************

 

 

“Well, we know for one thing, it can’t be a demon.” Sam murmured quietly, flipping aimlessly through his book. He turned another page slowly but he wasn’t actually reading the script in his hands anymore.

“Because we know demons can only pull souls out of Hell if they make a deal.” Castiel remembered, suppressing a yawn. They’d been at this for hours. Dean had finished cleaning all their weapons to restock the Impala’s trunk, and when he came back to help with the research, he’d fallen asleep on the bed almost as soon as he opened his book. Castiel had yawned at least fifty times in the past two minutes alone. It wouldn’t be long before Dean’s deep slumber tugged at Castiel. Sam smirked softly.

“Yea, and the only other way a soul gets out of Hell is if it becomes a demons itself.” Sam added.

“Or if we open another Devil’s Gate.” Castiel put down his book to scrub the exhaustion from his eyes.

Obviously, Dean and Cas had their bond back. It honestly didn’t surprise Sam, but it brought back memories from the first time it’d happened. Back then, it had been strange. People didn’t bond that often to their matches anymore, so it was something they all had to adjust to at the time. Once, Sam had punched Dean in the arm so hard Castiel was the one who’d winced in pain, like Sam had struck him rather than Dean.

That had changed when Dean broke the bond before the show-down in Wyoming. They’re bond hadn’t been so strong after that and Sam honestly wasn’t too sure what had happened when the hounds came for Dean. They’d torn Dean to shreds, and the mark had barely been visible after the attack.

But somehow Castiel had survived the past six months. Granted most of that time was spent downing hard liquor, sometimes getting only two hours of sleep a night, and tearing through demons during the day. Sam glanced over at his brother, who was tucked along one side of the bed, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest and an opened book in his lap.

“So these books we gathered from the library are useless.” Castiel muttered, yawning again. That was Castiel’s fifty-fifth yawn, and Sam didn’t hide his smirk. The duo definitely had some bond again, because Cas was crashing and he was crashing hard now that Dean was out cold. Sometimes, the weird thing actually had its perks.

“Maybe you should get a few hours.” Sam offered, slamming his book closed.

Cas ignored him. “I don’t understand how we’ve managed to sift through nearly four volumes in the past five hours and we have more questions than answers,” Castiel grumbled as he reached for another text across the table. “There has to be something somewhere in the lore that explains what demons fear.”

“Cas, we’ll find it.” Sam promised as Castiel rubbed his face roughly, a poor attempt to wipe away the sleep. “But you’re not getting anywhere by yawning every five seconds. Did you even get any sleep last night?”

There was a tired smirk on Castiel’s face when his hands dropped back to his lap. He glanced over at Dean and the smirk turned into a soft smile. That was all the answer that Sam needed, and he laughed along with Castiel’s quiet chuckle.

“Still can’t believe you almost shot him.” Sam muttered.

“You were about to stab him.” Castiel reminded him.

“Woulda been a lot harder to heal from a gunshot wound,” Sam countered.

Castiel grinned. “Don’t tell him, but he would have lived. The rifle Bobby keeps in the living room has salt rounds.”

Sam snorted a laugh at that. It didn’t last long. He fell quiet as Dean shifted in the bed. Sam chewed his lip gently. “Cas, how much should we tell him?” Sam wondered quietly. “I mean, you heard how he snapped when he heard we’d been interrogating demons.”

Castiel yawned and waved a hand gently. “We’ll worry about that later. One big problem at a tim—” Another yawn cut off Cas’ sentence. Sam chuckled softly.

“Right.” Sam muttered with pointed look at the bed as he stood from the coffee table. “I’ll go grab us some grub. You get some rest.” He grabbed his jacket on the way out the door. As it closed behind him, Sam reached into his pocket for his cell phone, making the call as he walked down the hallway.

“Hey. Meet me at the diner in twenty minutes.” Sam murmured. “I found them.”

 

 

****************

 

 

_Castiel…_

_......Castiel…_

_Awaken Castiel._

“Cas!”

Dean shoved at his shoulder and Castiel jolted in the bed. His hand latched out instantly, twisting Dean’s wrist away from him as his heart pounded against his chest. Dean let him. He was taut on the edge of the bed when Castiel finally let his hand slip away. Something was wrong, Dean was worried. When had Castiel fallen asleep? Where were they? Why was it dark?

Castiel blinked as the sleep faded away and the memories returned. Right, they were in Pontiac, staying in this cheesy 70’s motel with the shag carpet, cheetah-print blankets, and the mirrors hovering over the bed on the ceiling. He’d sat down next to Dean earlier, just for a little nap. Judging by the dark skies outside, he’d over slept. Castiel frowned as he let go of Dean’s arm to scrub the sleep from his eyes.

“What is it?” He mumbled.

“The TV turned on all of a sudden,” Dean said. “And that damn ringing is back.”

Castiel’s frown deepened. Ringing? He didn’t hear any ringing. All he heard was the scratchy static from the TV screen across the bed. The channel flickered and Dean jumped, grasping the shotgun resting along the coffee table. Castiel sat up gently, listening intently for whatever it was Dean was hearing. The radio snapped on next, loud and shrill as the dial turned from one empty station to another.

“That’s what happened at the gas station.” Dean explained, staring back at Castiel, worry and confusion a mix on his face. Castiel stood slowly as the ringing grew loud enough for him to hear.

_…Castiel…_

Dean winced as the sound resonated throughout the room. It almost sounded like someone was swirling their finger along the edge of a wine glass. It was one constant, shrill note, never ending. That sharp sound grew louder and louder. It filled the room and turned on all the electronics they had. Dean’s head tilted, shielding one ear from the onslaught as he held the shotgun, but Castiel tried to listen. He could have sworn—

_Castiel…_

The window shattered behind him. Castiel snatched his pistol from the bed, pointing it at the busted frame, expecting something to leap down into their room from the fire escape. Dean shouted behind him, and for a moment Castiel could feel the pain in his ears. He could feel the glass shattering sound pounding against his eardrums, because Dean felt the pain. Castiel shook his head and the pain went away. He could hear the ringing, but it didn’t hurt him. Not like it hurt Dean.

_Castiel. He is the Righteous Man…_

“That’s not possible.” Castiel said.

“What?” Dean shouted over the ringing. The second window shattered as the ringing grew sharper. Dean dropped his shot gun to cover his ears. Castiel turned his gaze to the room, trying to find the source of that voice among the ringing. He could hear it as Dean did, sharp, painful. But if he shifted that away—

_He is the Righteous Man. Castiel. You must protect him…_

The mirrors above the bed shattered one at a time. Glass rained down over his head, and Castiel had enough sense to cover his face. The shards sliced his arms and his neck as he ran to Dean, who was kneeling on the ground. He was right beneath the second mirror. Castiel hooked his arm under Dean’s, dragging him the two steps away before the mirror shattered and more glass scattered around the room. A light bulb popped next, sending the room into complete darkness. Castiel shook his head. They weren’t staying in this room any longer.

Keeping Dean against him, Castiel lead them out of the room as the last mirror broke with a loud crack. As soon as Castiel slammed their room door shut, the ringing stopped.

“We need to leave.” Castiel said, but Dean only shook his head as he rubbed his ears. Castiel tucked his gun at the back of his jeans, took Dean’s arm again and lead them out of the motel.

“We need to summon this Aniel thing,” Dean hissed once they were settled in the Impala. Castiel had the keys and started the engine, effortlessly backing them out of the motel parking lot. Dean reached forward into the glove box for a rag, using it to clean the bleeding cut at his neck from a piece of glass. “That’s twice we’ve been attacked by whatever it is. I don’t wanna get caught off guard again.”

“Dean that’s ludicrous.” Castiel muttered. “We don’t know anything about it, expect that it has incredible powers, and you want to attempt an attack on it? You saw what it did to Pam. We would have been the same if it hadn’t warned us.”

“What?” Dean balked, shifting in his seat to stare at Castiel. “It warned us? What are you talking about?”

Castiel’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as he let out a deep breath. “I could hear it speaking. Its voice is masked by the ringing, and because of our bond at first I couldn’t hear past the pain—”

“Wait wait,” Dean snapped the rag away from his neck. “You’re telling me that during that little séance, you could hear it speaking?”

“Only at the last minute.” Castiel explained as he turned the steering wheel, urging the Impala further down the road and away from the motel. “It practically yelled a warning. Don’t look.”

“Is that why you could keep standing back there?” Dean asked. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, but Castiel knew he meant the motel growing distant in the rear-view mirror. “You barely blinked while everything was shattering.”

Castiel rolled his lips as he tried to piece through everything that had happened in the past five minutes. “It knew my name.” Castiel finally answered.

“How?”

“I don’t know.” Castiel gritted. “But I could hear it calling me.”

“What did it say?” Dean asked tightly. Castiel caught Dean’s gaze out of the corner of his eye. Dean was tense, and there was that hard set to his jaw that said he was pissed.

“Just my name.” Castiel said. “Nothing else.” He wasn’t sure why he was lying.

“Why would this thing be after you?” Dean wondered. Castiel only shook his head lightly. “Oh now we really need to go after it.” Dean muttered.

“You’re forgetting, again, that we don’t even know _what it is_.” Castiel stated, and if he punctuated the last words, it was only so that they would stick in Dean’s head.

“We have an arsenal in the trunk now.” Dean shot back. “We have everything and anything we could possibly need and you know it.” Dean said. “So we find an empty barn or shack and we call down the son of a bitch to get some answers.”

“You’re an idiot.” Castiel fumed.

“I’ve been called worse.” Dean muttered, wincing as he shoved the rag back to his bleeding neck. They sat in the silence of the cabin for a while, Castiel driving absentmindedly, aiming to get them out of the city and as far from the motel as possible. It dawned on him then that Sam hadn’t been in the room with them, and was possibly out somewhere in the city.

“You should call Sam,” Castiel said. He rested his elbow against the window to rub his face, only needing one hand to drive as the roads emptied of traffic and they grew near the county line. “He ran out to get us food. The room’s a mess and we’ve disappeared. He’ll be concerned.”

Dean sighed quietly but shifted to pull his phone from his pocket. He put the phone on speaker, resting it on his thigh while it dialed.

 _“Yea?”_ Sam answered.

“Hey, where’d you run off to?” Dean asked.

 _“Told Cas I was going to grab dinner.”_ Sam answered _. “Place is a bit packed so it might take a while.”_

“Yea all right.” Dean nodded as he glanced out the window. “Well take your time. Cas and I are heading out for some more beers. Might hit the local pool house. I bet he’s rusty as shit.”

Castiel’s attention was snapped away from the road at that. Dean held up a hand to keep him quiet, and Sam chuckled over the line.

 _“Sure Dean. I’ll text you guys when I’m heading back.”_ Sam offered.

“Roger. Oh, go to Pam’s room for tonight.” Dean added. “Yours is a bit…wrecked.” Dean added with a wicked chuckle that made Sam groan over the line.

 _“You didn’t—”_ Sam sighed. _“That’s great Dean, real great.”_ Sam said and his end of the line went dead.

“Dean, why did you lie?” Castiel asked.

“I didn’t! His room is a fucking disaster.” Dean laughed as he tucked his phone back into his pocket.

“You know what I meant.” Castiel pushed and Dean scoffed.

“Sam’s better off where he is,” Dean promised. “You heard him this morning. If I told him we were about to try and summon this thing, he’d burn rubber trying to stop us.”

“All the more reason not to do this.” Castiel muttered under his breath.

“I can’t believe the mighty hunter, Castiel Novak is afraid of summoning a little monster.” Dean taunted, flicking Castiel’s ear gently.

“It’s not out of fear.” Castiel muttered, effortlessly swatting Dean’s hand away.

“Liar.” Dean murmured softly, because of course Dean knew what Castiel was really feeling, despite what Castiel told him. And there was fear settling in the pit of Castiel’s stomach. But it wasn’t fear of the monster.

“For the record,” Castiel said. “This was your fucking idea. And it pisses me off.”

“But…?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow curiously. Castiel didn’t answer. He simply pulled the Impala up to an abandoned barn on the side of the road. Dean tossed him a grin. “You know, you’re kinda hot when you get pissed like this.”

Castiel cut the engine and tossed Dean the keys. “Get the spray paint.”

It took almost an hour to paint every protective symbol Castiel knew, as well as extras from Balthazar’s and Dean’s journals combined. It took another twenty minutes for Castiel to whip up a summoning spell while Dean unloaded all of the weapons from the Impala’s trunk. Even once all that was done, Castiel hesitated to drop in the lit match to complete the spell.

“Cas, we didn’t paint the whole damn barn for nothing.” Dean murmured. Castiel rolled his eyes and let the match fall into the pot. The spell burst into flames briefly, and went out the next second. Dean raised an eyebrow as he lowered his hand.

“That’s it?” He asked.

“Magic isn’t an exact practice.” Castiel said. “As I’ve said, we don’t even know what we’re summoning—”

“Yea, Cas, I heard you the first ten times.” Dean cut him off with a nod of his head. “And we’ve got everything we’re gonna need.” He added, sweeping his hand towards the table littered with guns, iron rods, machetes, and holy water.

Castiel didn’t feel reassured, and his nerves were only further set on edge as the wind picked up outside the barn. Dean didn’t think anything of it until the loose shingles on the roof started to snap against the beams. The barricades on the barn door started to bend. The wind howled through the barn.

Dean stepped over to the table, slowly reaching for his hand gun as the wind continued to whip outside the barn. “Think it’s just a twister?”  Dean murmured.

“Doubtful.” Castiel added, standing at Dean’s side as the front door groaned against the barricades. Dean nodded in agreement as Castiel took up the shotgun, cocking it loaded as the door pushed itself open. The barricades broke in half. The doors swung open with a snap, slamming hard against the walls.

There was a faint ringing in the wind as the air blew in scattered leaves and hay from outside. Thunder crackled over the barn. The light fixtures swayed in the sharp wind, casting shadows into the corners and away from the door. The front light swung back, flashing brightly over a figure walking towards them.

It seemed human but the light bulb popped at the next boom of thunder, sending down sparks and darkness. Castiel watched as the figure stepped into the next light. He caught a glimpse of long hair and soft feminine features before the light blew out again with a flash of lightning. In that instant, Castiel could have sworn—

Sparks rained down in her path, and Dean held up his loaded gun as she continued towards them, unfazed by the bursting lights, the screeching winds, the rumble of thunder overhead. Castiel realized then that none of their symbols were working, not the devil’s trap at the entrance, not the marks for repelling evil. Nothing seemed to bother this creature at all. Dean let off a few rounds, and they hit dead center. She barely flinched, barely even recognized being attacked.

When she stepped under the last light, five paces away from them, the thunder ceased. The wind died down, and she stood, staring between the two of them. Castiel finally managed a good look at her as the last light stopped swaying. He damn near dropped his shot gun.

The woman had dark red hair hanging around her shoulders in loose waves, bright amber-brown eyes, and fair skin. She stood maybe a foot shorter than him, dressed in a thick gray coat that hung down to her knees, white blouse underneath, black slacks, and black leather boots. She couldn’t be any older than twenty-five. Castiel swallowed hard. She was the spitting image of Anna, if Anna had lived past eighteen.

“Who are you?” Dean asked.

“You already know this Dean Winchester,” She responded in a light voice. Though to Castiel, he could hear the rumble of thunder in the distance again. “I am the one who pulled you from the pits of Hell.”

“Right. Thanks for that.” Dean said. Castiel caught Dean’s hand slipping back to the table for the demon blade. He knew what would come next, and for some reason, Castiel stopped him. He stood between Dean and the woman, his hand clamping down on Dean’s wrist to stop the blade. Dean reeled back a step, confused and angry that Castiel had jumped in front of him.

“If she wanted to harm us she would have done so already.” Castiel told him. Dean lowered his arm slowly, so Castiel turned his gaze back to the woman. “You’re Aniel?” Castiel wondered.

“Yes.” She said. Her gaze seethed into Castiel’s skin as she stared intently at him. Her eyes wandered from his face to his chest and back up again before flickering over to Dean. “Your match speaks the truth. I do not mean you any harm.”

“Okay then. What are you?” Dean asked.

Aniel’s lips turned into something of a quaint smile. “I’m an Angel of the Lord.”

“You’re _what_?” Dean asked, catching the brutal end of Castiel’s disbelief and shock.

“Why should this puzzle you?” Aniel asked. “There are demons in Hell. So too are there Angels in Heaven.”

“So you’re like a messenger Angel or something?” Dean asked. Aniel’s gaze darted to Castiel for a moment. She tilted her head, as if listening to something, and then her attention returned to Dean.

“No. I’m a warrior of Heaven.” Aniel answered. “That is why I was chosen to raise you from Hell. It is a battle we Angels do not entertain lightly.”

“Then why waste it on me?” Dean asked.

Aniel’s expression darkened, her faint smile disappearing as she tilted her head. She didn’t seem to like that question anymore than Castiel did. She stepped closer, the disapproval clear on her face as Dean held her gaze.

“Because it was decreed by Heaven,” Aniel told him, keeping that intense gaze on Dean, even as he backed away from her slightly. “So it was.” She reached out her hand, placing two fingers to Dean’s forehead. Castiel felt a soft pop in his ears, like pressure from an airplane cabin, and then Dean collapsed at his feet.

“Dean!” Castiel dropped to his knees, wrapping an arm under Dean’s head to hold him up. “Dean!” Castiel shook his chest roughly.

Dean was breathing, and he only responded with a soft snore.

Castiel frowned. “What did you do to him?”

“Be at peace Castiel. He merely sleeps.” Aniel explained when Castiel glared at her. “I spoke true when I said I mean no harm. Not to you, and certainly not to the Righteous Man, but there are things he cannot yet know. So you must bear the burden in his stead, until he is ready.”

Castiel’s gaze lingered back to Dean’s face. Sleeping. Castiel could almost smile, because Dean looked so peaceful now. Gently, Castiel let him rest back against the ground, standing quickly. He tossed the shot gun to the table, taking up the machete instead.

“You’re no Angel.” Castiel muttered, raising the blade to the woman’s neck. “What are you really?”

“Castiel Novak, I would not have taken you for a faithless man.” Aniel stated, and her voice rumbled in the back of Castiel’s skull.

As the thunder returned, Aniel took in a deep breath and squared her shoulders. When the lightning flashed, Castiel swore he could see the outline of wings in the massive shadows spreading across the walls of the barn behind Aniel’s back. The thunder ceased and Aniel breathed deeply again while she rolled her shoulder and neck. Castiel lowered his blade as a smirk played across Aniel’s face.

“The ringing,” Castiel breathed. “That was you all along?”

“Yes.” Aniel answered. “That was my true voice. Some humans can perceive our language. Dean is not one of them, but,” Aniel tipped her head curiously. The ringing started, quickly filling the barn. Castiel frowned as the shrill sound fell away, and all he could hear was Aniel’s voice.

_You clearly are…_

Castiel could only blink in surprise.

“You were wise to head my warnings earlier.” Aniel explained aloud, the ringing stopping the instant she spoke. “I am sorry for your companion. I did warn her that setting eyes on my true form would not bode well for her.”

“Your true form?” Castiel echoed.

“Yes. What you see now is a vessel.” Aniel explained, picking at the gray coat around her shoulders. Her hands traced the fabric of the thick garment, and then the blouse tucked into the dress pants, as if she were just now noticing her clothes.

“You’re possessing this poor woman?” Castiel’s grip on the machete tightened as Aniel flexed her fingers slowly.

“No,” Aniel said, still watching her hands as she curled each finger into a fist and slowly relaxed. “Angels cannot inhabit a human vessel without their consent. She prayed for this. Her name is Kimberly. She is with me, very much alive and safe.”

Castiel rolled his tongue between his teeth, but he nodded to show he understood. Aniel’s gaze left her hands and settled back on him. He didn’t like the way her gaze seemed to burn in him. The Angel wasn’t just looking at his face; it felt like she was digging into his mind.

“You recognize this form Castiel?” She asked him carefully.

“She—” Castiel rolled his lips as Aniel continued to stare at him. “She reminds me of my sister.” Castiel murmured softly.

Aniel didn’t smile, but there was something that flashed across her gaze, something almost like pride, but it disappeared an instant later. Aniel simply nodded.

“It is why I choose this vessel.” Aniel explained softly. “Your older sister, Anna was named in my honor. I spent much time with her in Heaven. She spoke of you often, Castiel, and she is at peace.”

Castiel swallowed thickly as an old heartache started to swell in his chest. Anna was in Heaven, and she was befriending Angels. On any other day, that thought would make him laugh and smile. Anna always made friends wherever she went, it shouldn’t surprise him at all that she continued that in Heaven.

Aniel nodded in agreement, as if reading Castiel’s thoughts. The smile didn’t last for long though. Castiel’s mind plagued him with half a dozen questions. If this girl looked so much like Anna, who was she? Why did the Angel choose this vessel? Heaven and Angels were real and yet the world was casted in shadows and evil—

“You did not know she had a twin?” Aniel questioned with another curious tilt of her head.

“What?” Castiel blinked as the Angel tore him from his thoughts and he shook his head roughly. “No, I didn’t.”

Aniel nodded slowly. Before Castiel could get out another word, the Angel spoke. “Regardless, rest assured that Kimberly is well looked after for aiding me in my endeavors. However, I need your assistance as well.”

“My help? For what?” Castiel wondered. Aniel’s gaze fell down to Dean, sleeping quietly on the ground between them.

“As I said, your match is the Righteous Man.” Aniel said. “You, therefore, are his protector. You need to watch over him Castiel, and keep him safe until he is ready. Heaven has plans for him.”

Lightning cracked across the sky. Castiel winced at the thunder, and when he opened his eyes again, Aniel was gone.

 

 

*****************

 

 

Black smoke singed the floor, and the waitress in the diner collapsed at his feet, dead, eyes blown to black holes, same as Pam’s. She hadn’t said anything Sam didn’t already know. Whatever this creature was, it was more powerful than anything they knew, and it only added to Sam’s worry.

He lowered his hand, rolling his shoulder and neck as the small throb started at the back of his head. That always happened after exorcising a demon. It wouldn’t seem to go away either. Sam rubbed his forehead gently as the subtle throb worked its way back into his temple.

“Not too bad there Dumbo,” Ruby murmured from behind Sam. “You’re getting stronger.” She added, stepping around him to look at the woman on the floor. There was a crooked smirk on her face and her hands were shoved in her pockets as she examined the body.

“Ruby, what the hell is going on here?” Sam asked.

“If I had answers I would tell you Sam.” Ruby promised, standing up straight again and shrugging gently. “Why didn’t you tell me your brother was coming this morning? I woulda slipped out earlier.”

“I didn’t know Cas was coming with him.” Sam reasoned as he collapsed into the diner’s table.

“Did you tell him about me?” Ruby wondered.

“No.” Sam admitted. “Probably be best if you lay low for a while.”

“Seriously?” Ruby gasped. “We’re making such progress, and now that we know Lilith is getting stronger—”

“Look I get it okay?” Sam cut in, dropping his hands to the table. “But we gotta figure out what brought Dean back. They’re going to need my help—”

“And they’re not going to want me tagging along.” Ruby finished bitterly as she rolled her eyes.

“Give me some time to explain things to them,” Sam reasoned. “One big problem at a time.”

Ruby drummed her nails against the table as she thought. “This is a bad idea Sam. I don’t think you should be going after this thing. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen.”

“I know. But this is my brother we’re talking about here.” Sam said.

“Yea, right.” Ruby sighed. “Forgot how nuts you were about him.”

Sam rolled his eyes at that while Ruby fished something out of her leather jacket pocket. “I had a feeling you were gonna ditch me once Dean showed up anyway, so you’ll need these.” She explained as she placed three glass vials on the table.

They were each filled to the brim with a dark crimson liquid. Sam swallowed at the sight.

“For emergencies only Sam.” Ruby stressed. “Because while you’re playing house, I’m actually going to get some work done by tracking down Lilith’s bitches for you. I’m not gonna have time for house calls.”

Sam let out a breath as Ruby stood from the diner and left. He picked up the vials gently, as if they would shatter in his fingers at the slightest touch. Emergencies only. Sam nodded to himself and tucked the vials into his inner jacket pocket. His phone rang as he stood.

CAS flashed across the screen in bright letters.  “Cas? Everything okay?” Sam answered.

 _“Yes and no. We’re both fine.”_ Castiel added quickly with a grunt and a slam that sounded like the Impala trunk closing shut. “ _We should get out of town. Tonight. Where are you?”_

“Heading back to the hotel now.” Sam answered as he walked out of the dark diner and onto the street.

 _“Don’t bother.”_ Castiel murmured.

“I gotta get my stuff.” Sam explained in confusion as he dug out his car keys from his jeans. “Cas, you sure everything’s okay?”

Castiel was silent along the phone line, and Sam only heard the closing shut of car doors. _“Dean and I went to summon Aniel—”_

“What?” Sam stood at the front of his car, keys in hand and disbelief in his chest. They’d gone to summon the monster? Without him? Why had Dean lied about that?

 _“It was Dean’s idea. She said she’s an Angel.”_ Castiel spoke over the rumble of the Impala’s engine. _“She attempted to make contact with us earlier. It shattered everything in your room. The place is a disaster. If you show up back there—”_

“Fuck.” Sam rubbed his face in frustration. He unlocked his car door, sat down and started the engine. “Fine. How far are you from the interstate?”

 _“About an exit off.”_ Castiel answered.

“I’ll meet you at the next town over then.” Sam figured. “We can find a place there to crash.”

Cas hung up the phone, and Sam shut his closed, shoving it back into his pocket roughly. He clicked the car into drive, but he hesitated to gun the car down the road. The vials clinked together in his jacket, and Sam was suddenly aware of how much of a headache he had. Rolling his lips, Sam fished out one of the vials, uncapping it gently and taking a small sip from the edge of the glass.

The taste was bitter and metallic, and burned as it passed over his tongue. All the same, his headache ebbed away. He felt a bit more energized, focused, awake, good. Sam clapped the cap back down on the vial and pushed down the gas, steering the car onto the nearest high way.


	4. Your Intentions were Gold

“The Righteous Man?” Bobby muttered. His face wrinkled in one of disbelief and confusion under his hat.

“Yes.” Castiel answered while he turned the page of the 10th century Bible tucked into his lap. “She referred to Dean as The Righteous Man numerous times. Like it was a title more than a compliment. None of which Dean actually heard, but I’m certain that’s what she said. He is the Righteous Man.”

“We sure you two were talking ‘bout the same guy?” Bobby grunted, to which Castiel pursed his lips. Bobby sighed quietly with a nod of defeat as he wheeled himself further into the room, eyes skimming through the page Castiel was reading. “And this Aniel was an Angel?”

“At the very least, she had an impressive set of wings.” Castiel resigned as he tossed up a hand, raking the other through his hair.

“Well we got demons. Guess it makes sense—” Bobby started but Castiel scoffed and tried to keep the cruel smile off his face.

“Yes. But there are also vengeful spirits that haunt and kill the living rather than move on after death. Where were the Angels to help their passage to Heaven?” Castiel argued as he sat forward in his chair. “There are vampires, werewolves, ghouls, and wendigos which feed on humans as though we are nothing but appetizers. Yet the Bible says that Adam named all the animals of the world because God saw him to stand above the rest. Where were the Angels to carry out his will then?” Castiel felt his hands clench over the worn leather and parchment across the table at the thoughts running through his head.

Where had the Angels been when his parents went to pay their respect to their first born child, dead before his first birthday? How could God forge a creature as vile as one that feasts on dead humans, or one who induced their victims in a trance before feeding off their blood? Where were the Angels when Anna screamed for help, bleeding in the living room? Where were the Angels when Castiel nearly died at the hands of a djinn, or demons? Where were the Angels when Dean sold his soul? Why did the Angels sit by while people were dragged by Hounds to Hell?

Bobby huffed loud enough that Castiel was jarred from his thoughts. He blinked, forcing himself to breathe deeply, lowering his eyes back to the pages of the Bible in front of him.

“There are probably thousands of other evil creatures I’ve yet to face.” Castiel added, forcing himself to breath, rolling his stiff shoulder as he let the breath out slowly. “Have you ever once, in all your hunts, crossed something that was a monster but benevolent? A friendly dragon, or perhaps there was a wise unicorn, maybe a polite fairy?”

“I get your point.” Bobby muttered, and whatever else he was going to say was halted by the loud knock on the bedroom door.

Castiel slipped a bookmark into the Bible and closed it shut as Dean peeked around the edge of the door with a half smile on his face. Castiel tried to meet it, but he knew the quirk of his lips stopped there. Dean hardly took a step into the room, eyes flickering between his match and his uncle curiously.

“I’m gonna head down to the shop,” Dean explained, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the door. “Baby’s long overdue for a tune up and Sam’s coming along too. You guys need anything while we’re out?”

“There’s a list on the fridge.” Castiel nodded with a tiny smile.

Dean smirked and left the next instant, the door falling shut in his absence. Castiel chewed his lip gently as his fingers drummed against the Bible’s worn leather cover. Bobby turned in his chair to see Castiel staring at where Dean’s frame had disappeared.

“Shit,” Bobby scoffed, snapping Castiel from his thoughts. “I know that look. What is it?”

“I…” Castiel swallowed his words and gently shook his head. “It’s probably nothing.” He glanced down at the book in his lap, then at the small stack on Bobby’s desk. “I’m going to check the records downstairs. There has to be something.” He murmured as he collected his things.  

Tucked away with the weapons and books, Castiel dropped his stack onto the nearest table. He sunk into a chair, shut his eyes and rubbed softly at his temples. The memory from years ago, the thoughts of that day dislodged something Castiel nearly forgot with time.

His parents had gone to the cemetery that morning to see their son. Anna had told Castiel once that they had a brother who died when he was very young. Each year on his birthday, they would go and leave flowers at his grave. That was when the ghouls had attacked his parents.

But it sparked a thought. If his parents once had a child who died young, why would they give up Anna’s twin? Castiel worried his lip between his teeth as he reached into his pocket for his phone. He clicked through his contacts until he found  _ASH_. He pressed the phone to his ear as he stood to pace along the lines of bookshelves and cabinets. It took about three rings before the genius finally answered.

_“Yo! Cas my man, como estas?”_

“I’m fine Ash, thank you.” Castiel murmured, keeping the soft laugh out of his voice.

 _“To what do I owe the pleasure?”_  Ash yawned.

“I need you to do a background check.” Castiel murmured gingerly.

 _“Sure thing compadre. On who?”_  Ash asked.

“Me.” Castiel chewed his lip as Ash coughed on the other end of the line, like he’d nearly choked on a drink.

 _“Uh. What exactly am I looking for hombre?”_  Ash wondered.

“Anything.” Castiel explained. “Starting with my family and their death in ’89 might be easy. But see what you can find further back on me and my sister?”

_“Yea. I can do that. Pretty general but it shouldn’t take me too long.”_

“Thank you Ash. Keep this between us for now.” Castiel said and he hung up the phone. He rolled the device between his fingers softly before setting it down on the table in favor of another book.

 

 

 *********

 

 

“She’s not your ordinary Angel!” Sam shouted from the front room of the shop.

Dean grumbled under his breath. He was stretched back on a skateboard, tucked under the Impala while she was jacked up on two stands. He untwisted the last bolt for the oil cover, swearing when the liquid splattered into the drip-pan and splashed onto his shirt.

“What was that Sammy?” Dean shouted, wheeling himself out from under the Impala. He sat up, reaching for a rag to wipe up as much oil as he could from his gray shirt. It had other stains from previous jobs, but it was the last good one he had for the shop.

Sam walked over slowly, reading through a small stack of papers in his hands. “Aniel,” Sam explained gently. “She’s an Angel, but according to this, she’s an Archangel.”

Dean frowned. “What’s the difference?” Dean asked, squinting up at his brother in the afternoon sunlight.

“Think of an Angel as a foot soldier, and an Archangel is like their general sorta.” Sam shrugged. “I mean, you said she was a warrior right?”

“Yea, that’s about the last thing I remember.” Dean murmured, rubbing his forehead with the back of his wrist. He fell onto the skateboard again to peek beneath the car, watching as the oil continued to pour out into the drip pan.

“So that’s what I looked up,” Sam continued. “And there were four top Archangels—they were the only ones to speak directly to God—Raphael, Gabriel, Michael and Lucifer—”

“Oh fuck,” Dean balked, nearly banging his head on the Impala’s axle. “Forgot Lucifer was an Angel before he became the devil.”

“Uh, yea. Anyway, below those four on the chain of command are three others who took their orders from the top four and had commands over other Angels.” Sam explained, and Dean heard him shifting the papers in his hands.

Dean rolled himself out from under the Impala with a full drip pan of oil. Sam handed over the papers for Dean to look through as he stood. “Aniel is one of those three?” Dean figured.

“From the looks of it.” Sam agreed with a nod at the paper.

The page was a print out of something that looked like a weird family tree to Dean. The names were in Hebrew with English translations on the side, and sure enough, there was Haniel—sometimes pronounced as Aniel—right beneath Michael.

“Makes sense so far. She mentioned going into Hell wasn’t easy,” Dean muttered. “Coulda fooled me—so what’s the big deal then?” Dean wondered as he tossed Sam back the papers to empty the drip pan.

“The big deal?” Sam echoed as Dean brushed past him. “The big deal is that she takes orders from the most powerful Angels in the lore.” Sam laughed. “Basically, God wanted you out of Hell Dean!”

“Why?” Dean muttered, slamming down his empty oil pan. “I’m nothing special. I’m sure there were others who deserved rescuing more than me.”

“What are you saying—you think you didn’t deserve rescuing?” Sam tried not to gawk at his brother, because the idea seemed completely idiotic in his brain. If anyone deserved saving from Hell, it was definitely Dean. His brother had done so much good in the past four years alone. Dean only glared at Sam as he snatched up a wrench, and then slid himself back under the Impala.

“Dean!”

“Sam, I gotta finish this oil change,” Dean called from under the car. “Can was talk about this later or something?”

“You were the one who wanted answers!” Sam argued, throwing the papers onto Dean’s work table. “You went off with Cas to find them, and lied to me in order to do it!”

“I barely got any answers and a damn headache in the morning for my troubles.” Dean grunted as he tightened the bolts back onto the oil cover. “You didn’t miss much Sammy.” Dean sighed as he wheeled himself out.

“That’s not the point.” Sam said. He backed away from Dean’s tool box as his brother stomped forward for a different wrench.  Sam handed him the quart of oil and Dean quirked a half smile in thanks.

“Look man, I’m glad you’re back. I really am, and I don’t want to fight I just—” Sam sighed heavily, watching the tension build in Dean’s shoulders as he leaned over the open hood of the Impala. “I guess I’m trying to wrap my head around Angels in the first place.” Sam admitted. “I mean, it’s gotta mean something right? That they saved you means you did deserve it Dean. They wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”

“Yea,” Dean murmured distantly. “And next time Aniel pops up, I’ll call you okay? I’m sorry I snapped. Guess I’m still a bit edgy.” Dean reached over for a funnel, popping that into the opening for the oil tank and dipping the quart of oil straight into the funnel.

Sam leaned back against Dean’s work table, hands braced against the metal as he rolled Dean’s words over in his mind. “Dean, do you remember anything?” Sam asked. “I mean, after the Hell Hounds?”

Dean turned his head thoughtfully for a few seconds, and finally shook his head. “Nada.” Dean shrugged. “The hounds I remember. Then I woke up in Pontiac.” Dean sighed as he pulled away the empty quart. He tossed it to the trash can, and reached for another, tipping it towards the funnel, letting the oil drain out. Sam chewed his lips as he watched his brother work, letting Dean check the levels before speaking up again.

“Then why do you think you don’t deserve to be back?” Sam asked.

Once again, Dean only shrugged his shoulders.

Sam couldn’t place it, but there was something in the way he did it that didn’t seem right to him.  The shrug looked painful, as if Dean could barely raise his shoulders, but did so anyway to tell Sam that he was fine. The smile was faked, one of Dean’s ‘it’s-not-a-big-deal-Sammy’ smiles that Sam had stopped believing in twenty years ago.

“I’m nothing special Sam,” Dean murmured quietly. The third quart was empty and Dean tossed it to the bin. He checked the levels again, nodded in satisfaction and slammed the hood shut. “I’m just a mechanic.”

 

 

\---------------------

 

 

“Something. There’s something I’m forgetting.” Castiel muttered under his breath. His eyes raked through the Latin in front of him. He jotted down words he needed to translate, but he understood the jist of the passage. There was something in this though that he couldn’t reach, even as he wrote it into English. It was missing something.

Castiel huffed in frustration as he dropped the pen and screwed his eyes shut. He pinched the bridge of his nose, watching the words spin behind his lids with the images of Angels from the illuminated Bible. This tome was old; this story was ancient. It was one he knew—he knew it in a life, long since abandoned—a life of Sunday school each weekend, chapel prayers every night and songs of praise during the holidays.

 _I would not have taken you for a faithless man_ …

Aniel had been right to be surprised at Castiel’s lack of faith. Once, he knew—just as he knew his eyes were blue and his hair was brown—he knew Angels were real. He had believed that God watched over them, loved them, and kept them safe because they prayed, they went to Church, and they had faith. But that had all shattered like a wonderful dream. Now it was a forgotten memory, something Castiel could no longer reach.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. The fact that a once faithful boy, crushed by the cruel reality of the world was then tossed back into a realm he could no longer trust, was a wicked twist of fate. It was a world he couldn’t believe, a world he couldn’t understand anymore, but one that he needed nonetheless. The love of his life could very well depend on the lost memories and forgotten hopes.

“Cas, what are you still working on down here?” Dean’s voice shattered Castiel’s thoughts.

He picked his head up quickly to see Dean at the bottom of the basement steps. He was dressed same as this morning in a dark gray shirt and denim jeans. Only now the shirt held more grease stains than earlier, and the tear at the bottom of his shirt was a little bigger. He must have snagged the cloth on his work station again. His hands were mostly clean, except for the stain of oil on his forearms. Castiel had to smile at that. It was good to see Dean working again.

As Dean stopped at the table, Castiel realized he held a plate with two burgers in one hand, and two beer bottles in the other. Dean had brought him lunch. That was sweet.

“You do realize it’s like 8:30 right?” Dean set the plate down at the edge of the table, staring at Castiel with a mix of concern and affection.

Castiel’s smile dipped slightly. 8:30pm? Already? He spared a glance at his watch then quickly pushed aside the books cluttering the table to make room for Dean and their dinner. Dean handed him the beer and Castiel twisted the top off quickly, guzzling down a heavy sip. He sighed afterwards, offering Dean another smile.

“I’m sorry I lost track of time.” Castiel nodded towards the table. “I’ve been—”

“Stuck in these books all day.” Dean finished, dropping his beer down roughly as he collapsed into a chair. “Bobby said you haven’t budged. I had to bring dinner to you for crying out loud. And I’m willing to bet it’s your only meal of the day.”

The pointed look at the plate drew Castiel’s gaze back to the burger. His stomach growled angrily, so Castiel picked up the one closet to him and took a big bite. God he’d forgotten how well Dean could grill a burger—smoky and slightly charred on the outside, but still juicy at the bite. Dean hadn’t forgotten exactly how Castiel liked his burger either. There was lettuce, tomatoes, mayo and ketchup. Castiel held back a small groan of satisfaction.

Dean smirked, but Castiel didn’t feel his happiness or content. Not even as Dean reached for his burger.

They ate in silence. Castiel finished his beer before his burger and he left behind one bite with a quarter of tomato stuck between the buns. Dean cleaned his half of the plate, sitting back with half a beer still in his hands.

“So, are you gonna tell me?” Dean asked, washing down his last swallow of burger with a mouthful of beer. Castiel frowned at the question, tilting his head slightly as he tried to avoid how Dean’s throat bobbed smoothly as he swallowed.

“That’s vague Dean.” Castiel murmured. Dean took one last sip to finish his beer, and he set it back on the table.

“Left it open for you,” Dean admitted. “Ya know, a lot can happen in six months—”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Castiel promised. Dean’s gaze flickered to the empty bottle for a few seconds. “You’re back. Those six months are behind me.”

“Then why did you lock yourself down here?” Dean asked. The smile was gone entirely from his face. His eyes were dark as he stared at Castiel, fingers picking at the damp wrapper on the beer bottle.

Castiel tried not to frown. He didn’t understand what Dean wanted from him. Why was Dean upset? Did something happen while he’d locked himself in the cellar for the day? Why was Dean staring at him so intensely? And what was this chilling sensation growing in the back of his chest?

Dean let out a breath as he sat forward, leaning across the corner of the table, a breath from Castiel’s lips. Usually that was welcoming, usually it was playful. Right now, it made Castiel shiver.

“What aren’t you telling me Cas?” Dean whispered, but there was a force behind those words that Castiel had never known Dean to have. It stirred that growing feeling in Castiel’s chest, raising the hair on the back of his neck. Castiel fought against it; this was Dean.

Yes, he was keeping something from Dean, but with good reason. He didn’t want to tell Dean anything until he had all the facts. Maybe not even until Aniel returned, then she could explain everything. Castiel sighed quietly into the silence, wishing now more than ever that Dean was being coy and would kiss him at any minute, rather than cutting into him with such sharpness in his gaze.

“Aniel said something to you,” Dean added quietly, sitting back enough that Castiel could see his whole face, not only his eyes. “I know she did. She knocked me out to talk to you. What did she say that’s got you holed up down here like the Hell Hounds are after me again?”

Castiel fought back the shudder at the mention of the demon dogs. He glanced at the books stacked around his table, rubbing his neck as he sunk back into his chair. “It was…cryptic.” Castiel offered, which wasn’t a lie despite being a half truth. “I’ve been trying to figure it out before I told you.”

“Why?” Dean asked, and finally some soft concern came back to his gaze. Castiel could breathe a bit easier now. “I could help, Cas. Sam could help. You know he found out that Aniel is apparently one of the seven Archangels who take their orders from God?”

 _Archangel_ s. Castiel’s eyes grew wide and he gasped quietly. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Does that help?” Dean wondered.

Castiel stood up from his chair quickly. He hurried over to one of the many extra bookshelves they’d installed into Bobby’s cellar, eyes scanning the spines of books faster than he could actually read them.

Archangels. There were seven Archangels? No, there were four. Michael, Raphael, Gabriel and—

“Lucifer.” Castiel blinked as his hand froze over a novel. Something clicked at the name and another one jumped into his throat. “Azazel. You said he was a servant of Lucifer,” Castiel shook his head as his thoughts popped into the front of his mind, but the sparks had nothing to connect with. There was something there. Something he couldn’t grasp. Something he couldn’t remember.

“Um, I’m pretty sure all demons are. Why?” Dean asked. He was watching. Castiel could feel his gaze hot on the back of his neck while he continued to search for the book. Where was it?

“Lucifer was an Archangel.” Castiel murmured, speaking as soon as the thoughts came to him. Maybe that would help. Maybe if he talked through it. “But he fell—actually he was cast out from Heaven by God. When he crashed to earth, he spawned the race of demons. He started with Lilith.”

“I’m missing where the Angels come into play here,” Dean spoke, but Castiel only half heard him as he searched through the shelves. Where was that book? He’d read it somewhere. Where had he read it? The passage he was missing. The part he was forgetting. It was here, somewhere, it had to be.

“Azazel wanted to open that Devil’s Door in Wyoming,” Castiel said. “He needed the Colt to do it. I remember seeing him opening the gate. He wanted to let something out.” Castiel whirled away from the bookshelf as the thought suddenly struck him. “He let out Lilith! That’s what he wanted! He wanted her freed! It was the only way to break the seals!”

Dean stood from the table, grabbing Castiel’s arms tightly. “Cas, get a hold of yourself!” Dean practically yelled but there was fear in his eyes. Fear and panic. No. That wasn’t his panic, it was Castiel’s panic.

His heart was racing in his chest. His lungs felt tight, caught on something in his ribs. He couldn’t breathe. What had he just said? Something about Lilith and seals? Castiel couldn’t grab at the thought anymore, the sparks were all dead. It left him cold. It left him anxious. It left him scared. Dean’s hand traveled up his arms to grab his face as his vision blurred.

“Cas?” Dean called. Castiel blinked roughly and shook his head as he regained his footing. Dean’s arm was around his waist, holding him tightly, keeping him grounded. “What’s gotten into you?” Dean’s thumb passed over his cheek soothingly.

Castiel couldn’t answer him. His throat felt dry, like he’d spent the past hour screaming himself hoarse. His heart rate was steadily returning to normal as Dean continued to hold him close, caressing his cheek with his thumb. He could only shake his head again.

Dean sighed quietly and pulled Castiel into his arms completely. Castiel felt his shoulders fall as his forehead pressed into the crook of Dean’s neck. The tension fell out of his arms and his legs. Something finally gave way under him, and Castiel felt himself pitch forward slightly. Dean only held him tighter around the waist and stroked his fingers through his hair.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I gotcha.” Dean murmured. He was a rock that Castiel leaned against eagerly. His legs felt weak. His hands only had enough strength to hold the edge of Dean’s shirt. It was soothing when Dean spoke. Castiel could feel his voice against his chest and his breath, warm, against his ears.

“You’re done for tonight. Come upstairs, we’ll take a shower, I’ll put on a movie and you’re going to relax—” Dean started to pull away, and Castiel’s fingers tightened their grip on his shirt. It was a reflex. Castiel couldn’t help it, and he picked his head up from Dean’s shoulder sheepishly. Dean’s fingers tugged at his jaw softly, and the smile Dean gave him was so warming, Castiel found himself smiling bashfully in return.

“I’m not going anywhere Cas, not without you.” It was a promise Dean sealed with a soft kiss, and the warmth it sent to Castiel’s chest put him even more at ease. Dean slipped his hand into Castiel’s as he tilted away from Castiel’s next kiss. “Come on.” Dean tugged Castiel out of the cellar, up the stairs and back into the house.

 

 

 *******

 

 

Cas didn’t make it to the movie. The hot shower was enough to tire him out. Dean tried to rub most of the knots out of his back while they were under the spray and Cas had damn near fallen asleep standing up in the tub. It made Dean wonder how much sleep he’d gotten in the past week alone.

Cas stumbled out of the shower groggy. Once he was dry, he tugged on a pair of boxers and collapsed onto the bed. Dean smiled at the sight. Cas wrapped an arm around Dean’s pillow, dam hair already drying in odd directions as he hummed contently. He was sleeping on his stomach, so Dean had to be careful as he tugged the sheets out from under him to cover his back. He pressed a kiss to Castiel’s forehead, tugged on a pair of jeans, and went back downstairs.

Bobby was at his desk with a book. Dean pulled up a chair silently, straddling the frame, to cross his arms over the back and rest his chin on his arms. Bobby raised an eyebrow at Dean, but otherwise went back to reading through the awful looking manuscript.

“You know, Cas has a lousy poker face,” Dean commented. “I think he got that from you.”

“You ain’t never seen me play poker,” Bobby grumbled. He didn’t raise his head from his reading. Actually, he made a point of making it seem as though whatever he was reading was the next NY Times Best seller. Dean chewed his lip with a tiny nod.

“So he did tell you,” Dean guessed when Bobby’s gaze flickered up in unconscious agreement. “You know whatever wisdom Aniel passed onto him that he’s keeping from me. And you’re gonna do the same?”

“If Cas is keeping something from you, it’s for good reason.” Bobby stated. “And you ain’t exactly one to talk, boy. You sold your soul, and didn’t tell him about it for two years. Let him have this one thing. Contrary to whatever belief you got in that head of yours, Cas knows what he’s doing. He’s been at this a hell of a lot longer than you.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but he didn’t have anything to say back at his uncle. He frowned in the silence and turned to stare over his shoulder at the empty living room and kitchen. “Where’s Sam?” Dean murmured.

“Something about making a run to the station,” Bobby murmured with an absent-minded nod. “Told him to grab me some beer while he was there.”

“I went to the store today!” Dean protested with a wave of his hand.

“And you forgot the beer ya idjit.” Bobby snapped. “This house is full of you boys plus me. Beer don’t last long ‘round here nowadays.” Bobby said in his normal snark which meant Dean wasn’t thinking. “You think these past six months were easy for us Dean?”

Oh, Dean knew that tone. It meant it was about to get an earful from his uncle. “Bobby I—”

“Yea, you’re sorry. I get it.” Bobby cut him off with a wave of his hand. “That ain’t the point. Old habits die hard. You know that more than anyone. So don’t think we can drop everythin’ that happened while you were gone just because you’re back. Don’t get me wrong son, we’re all glad you’re still kickin’,” Bobby added when Dean dropped his head to stare at his lap. “But it’s gonna take time. Sam worked a shit-load of cases while you were out. Cas stayed here, workin’ on our network of hunters, helping them with cases. And in the meantime they were trying to find a way to get you out of Hell.”

“I know.” Dean murmured softly. He picked at the lint on the chair, as if that would counter the guilt swimming in his chest. He jumped when his phone starting ringing from his back pocket. Sam’s name flashed across the screen and Dean answered it quickly. “Hey, I hope you didn’t forget the pie—”

 _“Dean I think I’m haunted.”_  Sam’s voice was sharp and it shook slightly alongside the loud hum of the Impala. Dean stood up from his chair slowly with a frown on his face.

“Come again?” Dean wondered.

 _“I—I was at the gas station. Got attacked by a ghost.”_  Sam muttered.  _“Remember the police officer that shifter took out in Talladega?”_

An imagine of a woman, mid twenties with light brown hair, puppy brown eyes and a dazzling smile popped into Dean’s mind. The next image was her, bloody in her apartment, eyes lifeless, and her face twisted in agony.

“Oh shit. Richardson…” Dean swore.

 _“Yea. It was her.”_  Sam agreed.  _“She only attacked me. No one else in the station.”_

“You’re hauling ass to get back here right?” Dean asked, swirling a finger at Bobby to wrap things up on the table. “Sam thinks he’s haunted.” He added when Bobby only glared at him.

 _“Be there in five. Get everything you’ve guys got. She was strong Dean.”_  Sam muttered and he hung up the phone.

“Sam’s haunted?” Bobby asked.

“Yea, by an officer we couldn’t save a year or so back.” Dean muttered.

He was staring at the phone in his hand when panic struck him. The feeling seized his chest, clamping down his heart while it pounded roughly against his ribs. Dean pressed his hand to his heart, sucking in a breath to keep his balance. His vision blurred as another wave hit him. Ice-cold shock and fear coursed through his veins. Agony lanced through him next, following by a wave of pain, hot and quick. Dean braced a hand against the desk to keep himself standing.

“Dean?” Bobby snapped his fingers, but Dean wasn’t paying attention.

He swallowed the feelings. They slowly ebbed away. This wasn’t him. He could push the emotions and the pain aside easily. This wasn’t him. It was—

A crash upstairs came a second later and Dean dropped his phone.

“Cas!?” Dean shouted. This time his own worry mixed along the strained bond tugging at his chest, telling him something was wrong.

“Dean!” Bobby called out as Dean nearly ran from the living room.

He turned in time to catch the iron-rod from the fire place. Gripping it tight, Dean ran up the stairs, taking two at a time, barreling down the hallway towards their bedroom.

There was another crash. Castiel shouted in anguish behind the door. Pain erupted in Dean’s chest, like a knife jabbed under his ribs. Dean nearly crumbled at their door. He shoved his shoulder into the wood and it gave way under the force.

Dean only had enough sense to step and swing at whatever was standing over Castiel, pinning him to the floor. The iron swooped and the figure burst into a pile of fiery ash like any other ghost.

Castiel sucked in a harsh breath, coughing as he clawed at his chest. “Dean?” His eyes were wide as Dean helped him up from the floor, holding him tightly.

“I got you.” Dean sighed in relief as the pain ebbed away from his chest. “Guess Sam’s not the only one haunted tonight.” He muttered, glancing around the dim room carefully for any sign of movement.

Ghosts weren’t known for staying away after the first bite of iron. They always came back after a few seconds, a minute tops. And they always came back pissed. They needed to get back downstairs. The iron rod wasn’t going to protect them forever.

Castiel trembled in his arms, but what caught Dean’s attention was the choked down sob that fell against his shoulder. Adrenalin and sheer fear had masked the tension in Dean’s chest. Something else was wrong now. Cas hardly cried; the only time Dean could remember was out of anger when Cas found out about his deal. There was something about this ghost. It had done something to him.

“Cas?” Dean murmured softly, his free hand rubbing up Castiel’s arm soothingly.

“ _Fuck_. I couldn’t—” Castiel sucked in a breath and shook his head roughly.

There was a beat of silence where Dean felt a stab of regret and remorse. It was almost overwhelming, but then the feeling was gone, leaving nothing but a cold stone in his stomach. Dean frowned as Cas picked his head up, his jaw set tight and confusion knitting his forehead.

“You said Sam was haunted?” The tears were in his eyes, but Castiel hadn’t let them slip. His face hardened as Dean nodded slowly. The switch was almost instant, and if Dean blinked he would have missed it.

The tears were gone, the regret, remorse and agony was cast aside. Castiel pushed away from Dean, haphazardly tossing on a shirt and yanking on a pair of jeans. He stalked to the bed, tossing aside his pillow to grab his gun.

Dean frowned at that. When had Cas started packing under his pillow again? Had that been there last night? Castiel checked that the clip was full before reloading the magazine and tucking his gun at his waist.

“We’ll need the salt rounds from the cellar.” Cas muttered.

Dean held the iron rod tightly in his hands, nodding as he led the way back downstairs. Sam was stumbling into the living room when they rounded the corridor, and he looked like shit.

“Jesus, Sammy.” Dean muttered, dropping the rod to help guide Sam over to the sofa. He was bleeding from nasty gash over one eye, and there was a bruise rising over his left cheek bone.

“Like I said—she was stronger than any ghost we’ve ever seen.” Sam murmured.

“You’re not the only one.” Castiel said while he hurried over to the kitchen for the bags of salt under the sink.

“What?” Sam asked as Bobby wheeled over with the med kit.

“Cas was attacked upstairs by a very vengeful spirit.” Dean explained as he fumbled with the kit, finding a thing of gauze to press against Sam’s wound. “Who was that anyway?” Dean tossed over his shoulder without taking his eyes off his brother.

“Nick Dawson.” Castiel answered as he began lining the hallway and kitchen doorways with the salt. “One of the first cases I worked by myself. It was a witch hunt but, I couldn’t find the hex bags in time. He…” Castiel let the bag of salt fall heavily in the corner once he was done. He let the room fall silent, hardly meeting Bobby or Sam’s questioning gaze.

Dean felt a prick of remorse and guilt, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he picked through the med-kit for an alcohol wipe.

“And I saw Agent Richardson.” Sam muttered. “You went after the shifter. By the time I got to her place, she was dead.”

“So wait, all of a sudden we’re being haunted by innocents we’ve lost on cases?” Dean wondered as Sam winced from the brush of the alcohol swipe over his cut. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it doesn’t usually work that way. What’s changed?”

“I saw this, uh, thing on her wrist. Like a mark or something.” Sam murmured.

“Like a regular mark?” Bobby wondered. Sam winced as Dean pulled away the wipe, staying still while Dean reached for the butterfly stitches.

“No, more like an old cattle brand.” Sam explained. “Only got a quick glan—”

_“BOBBY!”_

The screech came from a little girl standing at the salt line by the stairs. Her face was pale but splattered with blood. Her night dress was mattered with gore, dirt, and soot. She couldn’t be any older than eight.

 _“You promised Bobby! You promised we would be safe! You promised!”_  She screamed and a window snapped behind Sam.

“Damn it!” Castiel swore as the open window let in a harsh gust of wind. The salt scattered across the doorway and the spirit broke through the ring.

She was at Bobby’s side the next instant. Her hand clamped on his throat, her gaze furious and fierce as Bobby gagged for breath. Dean swung his iron while Sam worked to slam the window shut and Castiel repaired the salt line. The girl screeched again as she disappeared. Bobby sucked in a thankful breath, leaning on the table while he held his throat.

“Cellar.” Bobby rasped. “That makes three. Salt ain’t gonna hold them all back.”

“But the cellar will?” Dean wondered. “How we even gonna get you down there?”

“Shut up Dean,” Sam muttered. “You and Cas can cover us.” He spoke as he stepped around to the back of Bobby’s wheel chair. Bobby stacked a few books onto his lap, and Dean reached for the second iron fire-poker, tossing it over to Castiel. They broke the salt line and went through the kitchen to the back porch.

They actually made it out into the cool night and around the corner to the cellar door without any trouble. It was getting Bobby out of his wheelchair and down the steps that was a little hassle, but they managed without any returning ghosts.

“Behind that bookcase.” Bobby pointed at the back of the cellar. Dean and Sam shared a frown, but wordlessly went to move the heavy-looking metal shelf. It budged after one hard shove, revealing a hidden door made out of solid iron.

Castiel pushed at the handle and yanked the door open with a heavy creak. Inside was a dark room that lit up as soon as Sam found the light switch. The room inside was circular, extending into the back half of the cellar. There was a bed, desk, a shelf full of canned goods, a bookshelf with a few novels, and three racks stacked full of weapons, salt and ammo. On the floor was a large devil’s trap, and there was another pentagram on the ceiling beneath a turning fan.

“You built a panic room in the cellar?” Sam wondered once they were all inside and Castiel slammed the door shut behind them.

“Yep,” Bobby sighed, wheeling himself over to the desk. “Finished it up a little after you boys came to stay with me.” He hefted the books on his lap onto the table, turning to watch the boys peek around the room.

Dean stood at the rack of weapons, pulling down a semi-automatic rifle with a twisted smirk on his face. “Bobby, you’re badass.” Dean chuckled as he put the weapon back.

“Tell me something I don’t know. You two, get to packin’ shells.” Bobby said, looking pointedly at Sam, then Dean. “Cas and I can hit the books. Either of you get a good look at those brands?”

“Yea.” Sam offered, snatching a pen and doodling what he saw.

Castiel collapsed into the chair at the desk, his gun glittering next to the books as he held his head in his hands. Dean took a step forward, resting a hand on his shoulder. Castiel opened his eyes to see the worry on Dean’s face. He only nodded softly in reassurance before Sam grabbed their attention again.

“This is it. Or close to it anyway.” Sam murmured.

Castiel turned the pad to see the symbol. “I didn’t see it in detail.” Castiel admitted. “It was definitely a circle though, and raised almost like a burn or a brand.” Castiel added.

“Great. Let’s get to work.” Bobby murmured, handing Castiel a book while Dean slipped away to help Sam pack salt-rounds.

“You still want me to believe in God after tonight?” Castiel grumbled quietly at Bobby. “Remembering these innocent people who didn’t deserve the evil cast upon them isn’t helping.” Bobby didn’t answer him, but the grim expression on his face was enough. Castiel opened a book and started to read.

The next two and half hours were excruciatingly quiet. Only the taps of Dean packing in the salt, and the clink of Sam’s sealer every few seconds marked how long they were stuck in the panic room.

Castiel felt like he was tearing through manuscript after manuscript, but nothing seemed to stand out. He stared at Sam’s drawing long enough that the symbol was probably forever burned into his mind. As he turned the page in the Bible at his lap, Castiel almost missed the picture in the corner. The double glance reassured him that his mind wasn’t playing tricks. He read through the page, and turned it over quickly.

“Oh fuck.” Castiel swore into the silence. Sam picked his head up, Dean turned in his chair, and even Bobby tore his gaze away from his book. “This isn’t good.”

“Yea we know that Cas,” Dean muttered gently. “We’re in a panic room for fuck’s sake. What’d you find?”

Castiel glared at him and hefted the tome off his lap, letting it slam loudly onto the table. “This symbol isn’t just a burn. It’s a brand on a soul, and marks them as a Witness.” Dean stood from his chair to hover over their book-laden table. Castiel watched the expressions flicker on his face as he stared at the illustration in the book.

“Witness here being any innocent we’ve lost?” Bobby wondered.

“Yes and no.” Castiel muttered. “They’re said to be souls who faced a violent death. They’re here to witness that which is yet to come.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam asked carefully. Castiel simply turned the page. The illustration was two pages wide, and the brothers only stared for a few moments, trying to take in the full scene.

There were bright fires contrasting against the overall darkness of the artwork. People were depicted running out of the fire, running away from it, and some being tossed into the flames. Graves were undone, others were slaughtered, stars cascaded from the sky—it was pure chaos.

“Hell on Earth.” Castiel explained while Sam’s jaw fell open and Dean glared at the artwork. “Judgment Day. The Apocalypse. Someone cast a spell in order to raise the dead, to turn them into Witnesses. It’s one of the markers that the end is upon us.” The pounding started in Castiel’s forehead again. He leaned forward, rubbing his temples gently, as if that would help turn the ache away.

“Wait—” Dean huffed. “Apocalypse like—like the Devil Rising, the Four Horseman razing the earth—that kind of apocalypse?”

“Appears so.” Bobby answered as he peeked at the book’s cover. “This is an older translation of Revelations.” He turned the book entirely on the table to read through the manuscript himself “And this spell ain’t your usual hocus pocus…”

“So it would take someone powerful to cast it right?” Sam wondered, scoffing when Bobby and Castiel nodded. “Three guesses who.” He whispered off-handedly.

“Who?” Dean asked, his head snapping up to stare at his brother.

“He means Lilith.” Castiel answered, massaging his temples slowly.

“You said that bitch was dead.” Dean gaped.

“I said something like that.” Sam corrected, holding his finger up in defense. “We thought she was dead. She may have just flashed out of her suit. Either way!” Sam ended the sentence quickly and shouted over whatever Dean was about to say next. “We hadn’t caught wind of her until two months ago.” Sam explained quietly.

“You talked about this earlier.” Dean blinked and his gaze fell back on Castiel, who was now holding his head tightly. The heels of his palms were pressed to his temples, but he managed a nod. “About Lilith and Lucifer and now we’ve got the god-damn Apocalypse starting? What the fuck is going on here?”

“Well, at least there’s a reversal spell.” Bobby said, having continued to read through the books towards his end of the table while the brothers bickered. “I’ve got everything we need for it actually.”

“Great!” Dean sighed in relief. “What’s first?”

“An open fire.” Bobby said with a sad smile.

“Shit.” Sam shut his eyes as the realization struck him. “We need to go back upstairs.”

“Naturally.” Castiel groaned as he pushed himself to stand. “How many salt rounds did you two pack?”

Armed with three shot guns, a hundred rounds, a bag of salt and the iron-rods from the fireplace, they made their way back upstairs.

It was blocked by a young woman with long dirty blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and ghostly-pale skin. She wore a red leather jacket, a bloodied green shirt, black jeans and boots. She was sitting on the top most steps, hands crossed over her knees. She picked her head up when Sam rounded the corner, leading the way while Castiel and Dean helped Bobby from his chair.

“Hey there Sam.” The girl smirked lightly.

“Ruby?” Sam whispered.

“Nope.” The girl sighed. “That was the demon-bitch’s name. Mine was Katie. But, you guys never really cared about that did you, Sam? You were too worried about Dean. And about Lilith. You didn’t stop to think that there was a helpless girl riding shot gun to that twisted bitch! She killed people using my body, and you two only encouraged her!”

“Oh God. Katie,” Sam swallowed roughly. “We…we didn’t—”

A shot gun went off behind him, and Katie completely disappeared. Sam turned to see Castiel holding the smoking gun, but he quickly tucked it aside to help Dean with Bobby.

“Just shoot Sam.” Castiel glared. “Talking will only make things worse. Go!”

They hurried up the steps, getting Bobby to the fireplace in the living room as quick as possible.

“Dean, upstairs in the linen closet there’s a dark green hex box. It’s gonna weigh a ton, go get it.” Bobby ordered while Castiel made a salt circle around the fireplace, the desk, and enough floor space for the trio to stand guard. “Sam, in the kitchen, the knife drawer has a hollow bottom. Bring me everythin’. Cas, make sure the windows are salted this time.” Bobby added as the brothers ran off to fetch the ingredients.

Castiel finished the windows and tossed aside the empty sack. He stepped back into the salt circle carefully to pick up his shotgun. He replaced the empty rounds and merely nodded to Bobby.

“If these ghosts are what we think they are,” Bobby spoke into the silence of the room while he sketched a few symbols into his desk with a piece of chalk. “You know we’re gonna have the worst of it.”

 “It’s only fitting.” Castiel murmured. These weren’t just innocents that they’d lost. These were innocents who had died because of their failures. These were innocents who could have easily been saved.

_“Castiel.”_

The voice in front of him made Castiel’s fingers freeze from loading in the shells. It echoed in his mind, ringing in his ears sharply. It was a warning, it was a command, it was a voice Castiel knew as well as his own. Castiel tried not to shiver as he stared at the darkened metal of the shotgun in his hands. No. No, this couldn’t be right. This wouldn’t happen to him. He would never—

_“Look at me Cassy!”_

Castiel swallowed thickly and slowly picked his head up from his gun.

Balthazar stood on the other side of the salt line. His dark shirt and pants were ripped and charred, one sleeve hanging off his shoulder, showing the bright red, pink and brown burn marks that adorned his neck, arm, probably even dipping under his collar to the rest of his chest. He’d died by the flames that scorched those marks into his skin. Balthazar looked as though he’d died yesterday, not three years ago. Castiel’s grip on the gun shook as his gaze raked over his partner. His hair was a mix of the usual blonde, but in some places it was charred gray and black. His face was twisted into a snarling smile, a burn streaking over the lower half of his jaw and back to his ear. 

 _“You didn’t even go looking for me,”_  Balthazar narrowed his eyes.  _“Did you?”_

“The Church exploded,” Castiel murmured quietly, feeling like he was fifteen and they’d just left the St. Martin’s down in the Houston. Castiel could taste the ash and smoke in his mouth. He could feel the panic edging at the back of his mind. Balthazar had that same scowl on his face, disapproving, but mostly disappointed. Castiel felt the world shift under him. His eyes were burning, but he couldn’t look away.

Balthazar was a ghost. He was standing right in front of Castiel, blocked by a line of salt he couldn’t cross. Castiel’s throat ran dry.

“They knew—” He voice cracked. He swallowed and tried again despite the wicked twist to Balthazar’s lips. “They knew there was no way—”

 _“Cassy. You know me better than that.”_  Balthazar chided softly with a tiny shake of his head. The same shake of his head that told him he was holding a gun wrong. The same shake of a head that sometimes came with a laugh whenever Castiel couldn’t flick a lighter on the first try. Balthazar twitched. His head snapped to the side and back again like a video glitch.  _“Of course I survived the explosion. If you lot had done a **proper**  search then you’d have found me before I succumbed to my wounds.”_

“Balthazar I swear….” Castiel tried to push the words from his chest. How could he say it though? How could he apologize for Balthazar’s death? They both knew it was Castiel’s fault. They both knew there was nothing Castiel could do about it now. But Castiel couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand the malice, the disgust, the hatred flashing across Balthazar’s face. He’d never seen such wrath and fury from Balthazar. Never such hatred either. Never when Balthazar looked at him. There had to be something. Something Castiel could say, something he could do—

“Cas  _don’t_!” Bobby shouted, and Castiel froze again. He was two steps away from the edge of the circle, about to step over it entirely.

Balthazar snarled at Bobby, which was just enough ghost-rage to snap Castiel back to reality. Balthazar was a ghost. Nothing more. He clicked the shells into the gun and set off the round without looking. He heard the smoke of the ghost disappearing, and then Sam was stumbling back into the living room with the kitchen draw.

“Cas?” Sam’s concerned voice ran in his ears as he crossed the salt line.

“I’m fine.” Castiel answered tightly.

Sam placed the kitchen draw on the desk for Bobby to sort through the ingredients. He glanced around the room carefully, a frown on his face. “What’s taking Dean so long?” Sam asked.

“Go find out. I’m gonna start the spell, and it’s gonna get ugly.” Bobby warned as he rummaged through the spell ingredients. “Make every shot count!” He shouted after Sam as he raced upstairs. “Cas, you with me?”

“Yes.” Castiel forced out as he cocked the shotgun back a second time. Bobby started chanting as he poured together ingredients into the brass bowl in the center of his desk. Castiel forced himself not to think. Anything that suddenly popped up outside the salt-line ended up with a salt round through the head.

Dean and Sam stumbled down the stairs, and Castiel snapped at attention. The tug of his bond with Dean forced his hand back down, letting the brothers pass into the circle. Dean exchanged the box on the table for the shotgun leaning against the desk.

Bobby’s chants grew louder as he continued the spell. The ghosts started coming back in droves, sometimes three or four at a time. Sam covered the doorway to the front door, Castiel watched the doorway to the kitchen, and Dean swiveled between the two whenever a third or fourth ghost showed up. Castiel tried not to think about the ghosts he was shooting, but, as Bobby said, it grew worse as the spell continued.

There were the twins he and Balthazar couldn’t save that summer up in Michigan. The boys had drowned in the lake, dragged under the water by a malicious spirit.  ** _BANG!_**

There was Nick again, forced to choke on his own wedding ring because he’d refused his witch mistress and had told Cas exactly where to find her.  ** _TA-CLICK_** _—BANG!_

Katie—the girl Ruby had possessed—made a rush to try and break the circle. Sam managed to fire off the round at her this time.  ** _BOOM!_**

There was a snap in the fire, a flash of blue, and Bobby’s chanting stopped.

Balthazar had reappeared in front of them. Sam and Dean both froze at the sight. He gave them all a weak smile, winked at Castiel, and twitched into nothingness.

“That was it.” Bobby announced in the silence among their ragged breaths. Sam fell back against the desk in relief.

Dean was staring at him. Castiel didn’t care. His eyes were glued to the place Balthazar’s ghost stood a second ago on the other side of the salt line. That smirk….that was the Balthazar he remembered. His friend, his savior…

The shotgun slipped from his fingers as Castiel collapsed into the couch. The adrenaline ebbed in his veins, but his breath caught in his throat as the cold reality splashed over his mind.

“We could have saved him.” Castiel heard the words slip through his lips. He heard Dean’s gun clatter to the floor, and he felt Dean’s warm palms on his knee. But something in him was chipped and slowly cracking, falling apart, falling out of his grip. A tremor rocked through him as Castiel’s chest constricted and his eyes burned.

“We could have saved him.” He repeated, but the words cracked, and his voice shook. “He…he survived the explosion.”

The first sob shook through him before Castiel could understand what was happening. Dean’s grip tightened on his knee. Castiel held his head as it throbbed, his fingers raking through his hair as the tears broke through his hold, dotting his jeans as he leaned forward into Dean. His stomach dropped. His chest collapsed as the next sob thundered in his bones, causing him to double over into Dean’s arms.

“No Cas, don’t—don’t think like this,” Dean’s voice was warm, and Castiel knew he was trying to help. But it did nothing. The words were empty to him. He could have saved Balthazar. He could have survived that night. If only they had—

“Cas! There was nothing!” Dean told him. Castiel felt Dean’s hands gripping his shirt to pull him upright again. Dean’s gaze was fierce, but his eyes were red. Could Dean feel it too?  Could he feel the weight pushing down on Castiel’s shoulder? Or the broken pieces that were tearing through Castiel’s chest, bit by bit? “You hear me? There was nothing left of that Church! Ellen, Jo, me and Sam, we checked. We double checked. There was nothing but a scorched empty lot and burnt wood.”

That didn’t help either. Castiel had seen the scars on Balthazar. The burn marks seared into his skin by the flames, the soot and ash that was scorched in his hair and the charred edges of his clothes. Castiel had left Balthazar in that church. He’d gone with the others instead, and left Balthazar behind at the church. He’d left his partner, his friend,  _his_   _brother_ , to burn. The pain erupted in his chest and his head as the thought rocked his mind. Castiel felt himself tipping forward again on the edge of slipping from the couch entirely as the next sob crashed into him.

“Look at me Cas, look!” Dean ordered, and he forced Castiel’s fingers aside to hold his face in his own hands.

Castiel could barely see him. His vision was blurry. Castiel blinked and the tears fell away. Dean was trying to smile, but he was so fierce. When had that sharpness carved its way into Dean’s gaze? When had those hard lines formed around his eyes? Castiel blinked again, and Dean’s face was softer now. Maybe he’d imagined it. Dean’s hands were gentle as they brushed the tears aside.

“That was the spell talking.” Dean told him. “He’s at peace again alright? He can rest now. I bet—” Dean chuckled lightly. “I bet those Angels are gonna get an ear-full from him about even being a part of that fucking spell. You know how much Balthazar hated magic…”

Castiel’s body trembled in Dean’s hands, and he could only shake his head weakly. “Dean…” He voice was quiet, breathy. His chest was tight, and the air he sucked in to speak burned through his throat. But the words came out all the same. “Didn’t you read the Bible? Lilith raised him from Hell.”

There was a faint ringing in Castiel’s ears again, and it brought back his headache tenfold. He doubled forward, clutching his head as he fell into Dean’s arms. The ringing grew louder, sharper, and it hurt. Had it always hurt like this? Could Dean hear it? Was that why it hurt?

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was worried, but Castiel couldn’t hear him over the resonance in his mind.

The ringing turned into words. “The seal,” Castiel whispered, repeating what he heard. “It—it’s broken.”

“What seal?” Sam murmured somewhere behind Dean.

“Cas what are you— _CAS_?” Dean’s shout was the last thing Castiel heard before he passed out entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the lateness of this chapter. I had some personal stuff going on but now I should be able to get back to posting more regularly for you guys =)


	5. The Mountains Will Shake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Slight spoilers ahead, but I thought I should give some fair warning--there's a character who has a panic attack in this chapter. If reading about one can bother you, feel free to skip the last section of this chapter.))

_Castiel blinked in the dim light of the kitchen._

_Aniel was leaning against the sink, arms crossed over her chest, as she stared at Castiel intently. She was dressed in the same outfit he’d last seen her in; a white blouse, a long gray coat, dark dress pants and shoes. Only now did he notice the silver bracelet that clinked over her wrist as she lowered her hands to her sides._

_Castiel frowned as he turned his gaze slowly to the rest of the room. It was still late in the evening, or maybe it was earlier in the morning now. There was some gray-blue light streaking through the blinds of the window, but it seemed to be getting brighter. This was Bobby’s kitchen. But Castiel couldn’t remember how he ended up in the kitchen, or how much time had passed._

**_“If it helps you understand,”_ ** _Aniel mused. **“You’re dreaming at the moment.”**  Her voice was soft as she spoke, but her eyes held all her intensity as she studied him carefully._

**_“Why are we talking in my dream?”_ ** _Castiel wondered._

_Aniel braced her hands against the counter as she considered her answer. **“This is a simple way of communication when I’m needed elsewhere.”**  Aniel said.  **“That was excellent work with the Witnesses, Castiel. Even if we lost the seal we didn’t lose as many lives as predicted. Other hunters were spared.”**_

**_“Your assistance would have been useful.”_ ** _Castiel muttered, anger boiling under his skin. If they saved more lives than predicted, that meant the Angels knew it was going to happen. They knew about the Witnesses, and they weren’t given any warning. Castiel felt his hand clench at his side._

_Aniel’s gaze flickered back to him sharply. Her eyes narrowed as Castiel forced in a breath to calm down. **“I am not a guardian Angel, nor am I some merger messenger as your match suggested,”**  She informed him. “ **I am not here to guide your every action. Nor am I here to watch over your shoulder. I am a soldier, and we are at war. There are far more important matters that need my attention.”**_

**_“Then why are you here now?”_ ** _Castiel finally snapped. His voice was rough as the words rolled over his tongue. **“Of all the times, during all the chaos across the world, why would Angels suddenly need to come to earth? And why would they bother with a few hunters like us?”**  Castiel asked._

_Aniel’s gaze was cold as she stared at him. **“You are familiar with the demon Lilith.”**  She said.  **“And you are aware that she was not killed last spring. She merely went into hiding, to gain more followers and strength, to better formulate her plans.”**_

**_“What plans?”_ ** _Castiel couldn’t keep himself from asking. If this truly was Lilith, they would need all the information they could get._

**_“Lilith is attempting to break the sixty-six seals of damnation.”_ ** _Aniel told him._

_Castiel swallowed thickly. Seals. What were these seals he kept talking about today? Where did this all come from and how could he have known about it already?_

_Aniel continued as if Castiel was actively paying attention._ **_“We are fighting her at every turn we can, preventing her from breaking any more.”_** _Aniel’s gaze wandered away from Castiel, and off towards the far window. **“Today was not a battle Angels could fight, there was much more at stake. But, you saved many human lives. I know that is important to you.”**_

**_“Sixty-six seals of damnation?”_ ** _Castiel echoed. “ **That’s the third time today I’ve heard mention of the seals. What are—”**  Castiel winced as he head throbbed again. Wonderful. He didn’t think it was possible to get headaches in a dream.  **“What are these seals?”**_

**_“Rather than seals,”_ ** _Aniel said, her gaze flickering towards the ceiling, then back at Castiel. **“Picture them as keys to a locked cage. With each seal that is broken, the lock is slowly turned open.”**_

_Castiel paced in a circle as he rubbed his forehead against the tiny hammer chiseling away at his skull. **“A cage? What cage?”**_

**_“You know the answer to that already.”_ ** _Aniel glared at him softly but Castiel didn’t understand why. He didn’t understand why she was expecting so much from him. He could see the slight annoyance on her face at his questions, and Castiel shook his head gently._

**_“Lucifer…”_ ** _Castiel guessed, but as soon as the name rolled off his tongue, he knew it was true. **“The Rising of the Witnesses signals the start of the Apocalypse, which is to happen when Lucifer rises.”**_

**_“That is why we have returned to Earth,”_ ** _Aniel explained with a small nod. **“We cannot allow Lucifer to escape.”**_

**_“Why did you raise Dean from Hell?”_ ** _Castiel wondered. **“You called him the Righteous Man. What does that mean?”**_

_For a few seconds, Aniel didn’t answer him. Her glare was steady, unwavering, and made Castiel’s stomach churn. Anna used to give him that same glare whenever he said something out of turn. It was disappointment and frustration mixed together in a way that tore through Castiel, making him reconsider his questions. But before Castiel could get another word out, the look was stripped from Aniel’s face, leaving nothing but a faint smile. She turned to stare out the window again where sunlight was staring to peak through the shades in light hues._

**_“Always so many questions,”_ ** _Aniel sighed quietly. **“You are both important.”**_

**_“What do you mean by that?”_ ** _Castiel frowned, unable to catch the words before they left his mouth._

_Aniel’s smile remained, but to Castiel it was remorseful. **“Have faith this time Castiel. Keep him guarded. Keep him safe.”**_

 

 

\--------------------------------

 

 

Dean was the one who woke up the next morning with a pounding headache. He couldn’t explain where it came from until Cas groaned at the sunlight streaking through the window, pulled the blankets up over his head, and burrowed himself against Dean’s side. Then it all came crashing back to Dean; Cas’ mini-breakdown in the cellar, the Witnesses, Balthazar as a wrathful ghost, then Cas passing out in the living room after they broke the spell. No wonder his head was pounding right now. Cas probably had one hell of a migraine. Dean found his bare shoulder under the covers, and Cas practically rolled into the touch.

“Want some Advil?” Dean murmured. He was only given a groan of displeasure in response. “Coffee?” His answer to that was Castiel’s hand snaking out from the blankets and reaching around his waist, keeping him in place. Dean sighed quietly as he tried to pull the blankets away from his match. It didn’t help that the sheets were hot, the blankets were making him sweat, and now Cas was pressed against him from his chest down. “At least let me up so I can close the blinds and take a piss Cas.” Dean grumbled.

“No.” Cas actually snarled against his side. “You’re warm.”

“Yea no kidding, I’m sweating my balls off here.” Dean protested. “Wait, you’re cold?” Dean asked. He felt Cas nod gently against his stomach. Dean frowned and he pressed his hand against Castiel’s forehead, cheek and neck. He was clammy, but he wasn’t too warm. It could just be from the heat of the covers.

“Come on Cas, let me up. I’ll get you some pain killers so you can sleep off this migraine and I’ll close the blinds.” Dean couldn’t make out what Cas mumbled, but he felt his grip on his hip tighten. Dean sighed quietly, letting his fingers run through Castiel’s bed-head. “I’ll be right back.” Dean promised as he tugged at Castiel’s arm and wiggled his way out of the bed, quickly dashing to the bathroom.

He closed the blinds as he returned with a glass of water and pills. “Cas, here.” Dean nudged at the pile of blankets that was currently his match. “It’s just three pills. And the blinds are closed. I’m not getting back under the cover until you take these.” Dean added when Cas groaned again.

After a few seconds, there was movement, and Castiel reached his hand out for the pills, sitting up slowly to swallow them with a swig of water. Dean raked his fingers through Castiel’s hair as he drank another gulp of water.

“That’ll take the edge off at least.” Dean promised. Cas only gave him a tired half smile, collapsing back onto the bed. The gentle tug at his shirt was Castiel’s quiet plea, and Dean smiled as he rejoined his match under the covers. “Told you I wasn’t leaving.” Dean murmured as Cas burrowed his way into Dean’s arms again.

“Bad dream last night.” Cas murmured against his collar bone.

“Hate to break it to you babe, but those witnesses weren’t a dream.” Dean sighed, rubbing soothing circles into his back.

“Please tell me you’re joking.” Cas groaned.

“I wish I was.” Dean said, and he meant every word. Last night had been brutal.

Sam had been beat to shit by the cop they’d lost in Talladega. Dean had been haunted upstairs by Katie, the girl Ruby had possessed while he was fetching the hex box for Bobby. And Castiel had been tormented by Balthazar. Fuck, they all had.

Dean rubbed his thumb over Castiel’s shoulder as he felt a wave of grief and regret hum through their chests. “Don’t.” Dean warned. “It was just the spell.” Dean told him.

He hated the way Cas shrunk against his side, guilt clear in his shoulders and the way his fingers picked at Dean’s shirt. He hated that Cas blamed himself for Balthazar’s death. He hated how hurt Cas had been yesterday. Dean had felt it all, the torment, the remorse and the heart-shattering misery that had over-powered him when Balthazar’s ghost disappeared at the end of the spell. Dean’s hand tightened around Cas at the thought.

“We weren’t the only hunters affected by the spell.” Cas muttered after a few minutes of quiet. He shifted in the bed, sitting up slightly to look up at Dean. He was tired. Dean could see the bags under his eyes and the exhaustion across his forehead. “Aniel. She came to me in a dream last night.”

“What?” Dean frowned and he sat up quickly, leaning against the headboard. Cas only nodded gingerly. “Angels can do that?”

“You really need to read the Bible sometime.” Cas mumbled.

“Save the Sunday school for later,” Dean waved the topic aside. “What did she say to you? Did she want something?”

Cas took a deep breath and rubbed his face roughly. That worried Dean, and it only grew worse when Cas pushed aside the blankets to sit up straight. Dean’s headache was mild now so the medicine had kicked in, but he knew Cas’ head was throbbing.

Dean silently smacked himself; he was bringing up work again. They’d just woken up, Cas was fighting a migraine, neither of them had their morning coffee yet, and Dean was hounding him for answers. They shouldn’t be worrying about Angels and Witnesses and a possible Apocalypse right now. The mental smack turned into kicking as Dean noticed the drawn expression on Cas’ face as he tried to find words to explain his dream encounter with the Angel. Dean reached across the sheets for Castiel’s hand, pulling it away from his face and dragging Cas back into his arms.

“Forget it.” Dean murmured. “We can worry about it later. I can feel your headache like a bad hangover. You need to rest.” The fact that Cas came willing, folding into Dean’s arms without so much as a grumble, only made Dean feel worse.

He wrapped his arms around Castiel’s shoulders and waist, holding him against his side as tightly as he could without it being uncomfortable for either of them. Cas sighed quietly, but it sounded more content and comfortable as Dean relaxed into the bed. Dean closed his eyes, keeping his breathing deep, steady, willing Cas back to sleep through their bond effortlessly. Even if Dean wasn’t all that tired, he nodded off along with his match anyway.

 

 

\-------------------

 

 

**_Something was coming for him._ **

**_Something was next to him._ **

****

**_He couldn’t run._ **

**_He couldn’t move._ **

**_He could barely breathe._ **

****

**_It was getting closer._ **

**_It was right next to him._ **

**_It was on top of him._ **

****

**_It had him._ **

 

A hand clamped onto Dean’s shoulder. The dream shattered but Dean reacted anyway, lunging forward with all his force. He grabbed the hand pressed to his shoulder and twisted. They fell to the floor, Dean snarling as he pinned his attacker to the ground. They weren’t going to get him this time. This time he was ready. This time he’d  _win_. Dean felt his lip curl in pleasant anticipation at the chocked gasp beneath him.

Yes. This time he’d win.

 _“DEAN!”_  Castiel’s shout broke through the red in Dean’s vision.

His chest was heaving. His heart pounded painfully against his ribs. He had one hand clamped over Sam’s throat, squeezing hard. The other hand was locked onto Sam’s wrist, twisted and pinned to the ground at his waist. One knee kept Sam’s other hand from reaching for his throat. His other knee pressed into Sam’s chest with all his weight. Dean had him completely pinned.

Sam was gasping for breath under his hand, staring at Dean with wide eyes full of fear and confusion. This was Sam, crucified under him.  _Sammy._  Dean blinked as that reality struck him. He attacked Sam. He’d just _attacked_ his brother. He was choking his  _brother_. Dean snapped away from Sam like he was fire.

Sam coughed as he sucked in a breath. He rolled onto his side, rubbing his neck as he wheezed and panted. Dean staggered into the nightstand, staring at his hands like they didn’t belong to him.

What had he done?  _What had he done?_  He stared at Sam, concern and dread churning in his stomach. It nearly made him sick. He’d attacked Sammy. He hadn’t even thought of what he was doing. He’d attacked. And he attacked to _kill_. If Cas hadn’t shouted at him—

Dean swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat. He nearly killed his brother.

Cas was off the bed, kneeling next to Sam with the glass of water in his hands. He helped Sam sit upright and pressed the glass to his lips. While Sam drank, Cas turned on Dean, staring at him. Dean couldn’t breathe. Cas’ eyes were sharp, lethal, gazing at Dean like he couldn’t understand what he was seeing or who he was looking at now. Dean swallowed thickly, breaking away from Cas to stare at his brother.

Sam was breathing evenly now, but Dean could see the redness in his skin under his jaw from Dean’s fingers. Sam blinked as he pushed away Castiel’s hand.

“The fuck was  _that_?” Sam managed to rasp with a sharp glare of his own.

Dean couldn’t answer him. He didn’t know what to say. His brain was short-circuiting. It couldn’t get past the shock of attacking Sammy. It couldn’t get around the darkness that had swarmed up and overtaken his actions. It couldn’t get over the thought of hurting his little brother. It couldn’t stop reminding him that for a split second, he’d _liked_  it.

Cas was quiet as he helped Sam up from the floor. Sam rolled his shoulder and rubbed his wrist. He was glaring at Dean still, but it wasn’t as angry. He seemed frustrated now, and Dean realized he wanted an answer. Dean shook his head again.

“Dude, sometimes you’re jumpy when you’re having a nightmare,” Sam muttered, concern taking over when Dean’s breath hitched. “But this…”

“I—” Dean’s voice cracked and he shook his head again. He couldn’t. He couldn’t get the words out. There were too many thoughts swirling in his mind.

_He attacked Sam._

_He nearly killed his brother._

_And he’d enjoyed it._

That thought brought back something Dean thought he’d forgotten. Something he’d tried to bury deep down.

“I’m sorry Sam.” Dean shook his head again, trying to clear the panic away. “Wa—was it—is that why you were waking me?” Dean forced the words out. He forced the thoughts down, and he lowered his hands to his sides even though they trembled. His gaze flickered from his brother to Cas, and back again twice.

Cas hadn’t said a word yet. He was standing between the brothers, as if he had to mediate them. As if Dean was going to jump again. Dean swallowed at the coolness in Castiel’s gaze. It stung like ice, seeing that harshness in his match’s eyes. Like Dean couldn’t be trusted. It burned. He turned his eyes back to Sam, who was shaking his head softly.

“No. Bobby needs our help,” Sam murmured. “Few of his hunting buddies aren’t answering his calls. He wants us to go check up on them. Especially after the Witness thing last night.”

“We’ll be right down.” Cas finally spoke. Dean tried not to wince. Castiel’s voice was deep, his words were short and he only gave Sam a stiff nod. Sam’s gaze flickered between the two, watching Dean carefully as he turned and left the room. Sam didn’t know Cas like Dean did though. He didn’t know the harshness of Cas’ short words, or the way his cold voice could cut into Dean like a razor.

Even after the door shut, Castiel didn’t say a word. He stood there in front of Dean, his breath even against Dean’s racing heart. He reached around Dean to set down the half-empty glass of water, and as he stepped back he caught Dean’s gaze.

Ice. There was nothing but ice in his eyes as they stared, searching, begging for Dean to say something, to explain what happened. Dean swallowed at the coolness that sunk in his chest. No. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t let Cas feel it. So Dean shook his head gently.

“I don’t…” Dean stared, but stopped. He did. But he couldn’t tell Cas. He couldn’t remember. No, he could, he just didn’t want to remember. Cas’ eyes grew narrow, and Dean nearly panicked. Cas could always tell if he was lying. He could sense when Dean wasn’t being honest. They knew each other too well. And the bond helped but right now it was cold. Dean blinked and Cas was stepping away from him.

He walked over to his dresser, methodically pulling out a pair of jeans, a plain black shirt and dressed quickly. Dean blinked at the normality of Cas’ movements. As soon as he had his socks on, he sat on the bed to tug on his boots, and he reached under his pillow for his pistol.

“You should get dressed.” Cas told him, his voice consistent and cold. There wasn’t any feeling in his words. He checked the clip, like always, before locking it loaded as he stood, and reached towards Dean’s dresser for his holster.

“Yea…right.” Dean murmured distantly, feeling the words tumble around in his mouth like marbles. He moved slowly towards the dresser for his own clothes while Cas grabbed his leather jacket. Once Dean had on a pair of jeans, a white shirt and plain red over-shirt, he turned to see Cas leaning against the door. He was staring again, watching Dean’s movements carefully. Then it struck him. Cas was already in hunting mode.

At first, it had been a joke. Something that Dean talked about to Sam, teasing Castiel for how serious he could be when they were on a case together. Or how intimidating Castiel could be when dealing with hostile witnesses, or how coolly Castiel took in facts, reacted during a fight, distant from everything, moving swift and with a purpose. It wasn’t until the second or so year of hunting alongside Cas, that Dean realized “hunting mode” was a real thing, no longer a joke between him and his brother. And this was Cas in hunting mode right now.

Standing at the doorway was Castiel Novak, the man whose family was killed by ghouls. This was the boy who was raised on the road living from one motel room to the next. This was a man who spent his life putting ghosts to rest, killing werewolves and monsters alike. This wasn’t his Cas. This was a hunter. And he was staring at Dean as critically as he would an unknown target, trying to find a weakness, trying to gain an advantage.

Dean couldn’t bring himself to speak. He tugged on his boots, grabbed his wallet, his keys, and followed Cas out of the bedroom.

They were two steps away from the stairs when Castiel grabbed his shoulder. Dean felt the hum of something against his skin when Cas’ hand turned him. Dean was expecting words, or another harsh glare. He wasn’t expecting Cas to fist his hands into his shirt and drag him forward to crush their mouths together.

The kiss was brutal to say the least. Cas was all teeth on his lips, dragging Dean’s bottom lip into his mouth to bite harshly, causing Dean to gasp quietly. Then he felt the fear, the concern, and the worry building in his chest, under his ribs where Dean could sometimes feel Castiel’s heart hammering close to his own.

“We’re not finished.” Cas broke the kiss as roughly as he started, whispering the harsh words a breath from Dean’s mouth. Dean rolled his lips gently, licking where they throbbed from Cas’ rough bite. Cas was pissed, but all Dean could do was nod. Cas seemed to lose some of the tension in his shoulders as he stomped down the stairs.

Bobby was seated behind his desk as always, and Sam was leaning on the other side. Sam was the first to glance over, and whatever conversation the two were having stopped entirely as Dean walked into the room a step behind Cas. The hunter sighed as a good morning.

“You were right, about the Witnesses attacking other hunters.” Cas started, glancing between Sam and Bobby. “I doubt there were many who were lucky enough to be unaffected. Aniel told me last night that we’d saved a few lives by ending the spell so quickly.”

“Did she now?” Bobby asked skeptically.

Castiel nodded. “Apparently they can visit people in dreams, which shouldn’t be all the surprising given the rendering of Angels in the Old and New Testament.” Cas started, and when Sam seemed confused, he continued. “Aniel confirmed everything we had already guessed last night. Lilith is trying to start the Apocalypse. The Rising of the Witnesses is one of the sixty-six seals that Lilith needs to break in order to set Lucifer free.”

Sam’s mouth fell open. Any other day, Dean would probably make a joke. As it was, Dean wasn’t sure he could even speak, let alone joke right now. So this really was the end of the world. Bobby pushed his cap back a bit further on his head.

“Well good fucking morning to you too Novak.” He grumbled, and that broke the heavy silence in the house.

“Just thought you should all know,” Cas reasoned with a half shrug. “Before we head out. Sam said you wanted us to check up on other hunters?”

“Yea. Olivia, Travis, and Jack aren’t answering any of my calls.” Bobby explained. “It ain’t like them to answer none of their numbers. And I’ve tried every one at least three times. Olivia lives about three hours north of here, Travis is at the tail end of Iowa, and Jack, last I heard he’d found a shack up in Minnesota.” Bobby handed Sam a folded piece of paper and held out another one to Cas. “These are the addresses I’ve got. You two head to Olivia and Travis, Sam you take the Camaro and see if you can find Jack.”

“What about Ellen and Jo?” Sam asked, fiddling with the paper in his hands.

“I called them first thing this morning,” Bobby smiled lightly. “They were one of the lucky ones.”

“You tell them I’m here?” Dean wondered, gaining something close to his voice as he leaned against the doorway.

“You’d better swing by the Roadhouse on your way back,” Bobby shook his head. “I ain’t touching that one with a thirty-foot poll.”

 

 

\-----------------

 

 

Four hours later of nothing but radio music, Dean’s mix tapes, and the rumble of the Impala over the interstates, Castiel found himself gingerly walking up the wooden steps to a hunter’s home. He had one hand placed casually at his side arm while Dean rang the doorbell. Then knocked, and rang the door bell once more for good measure.

“Maybe she’s out on a case?” Dean offered against the thick silence that had settled between them. Castiel turned his eyes back to the door, but he nodded over Dean’s shoulder.

“Hard to go anywhere without a car.” Castiel muttered, and Dean huffed at the sight of a dusty Dodge Challenger parked on the small driveway along the side of the house. Dean reached into his pocket, and to Castiel’s surprise, he pulled out a lock pick.

Were it not for the heavy ice that had settled in Castiel’s chest since this morning, he’d probably feel proud. Usually whenever they were hunting together, Cas was the one who handled the lock-picking. He’d taught Dean to always come prepared on hunts, and that sometimes to do the right thing, hunters had to break a few rules. Local laws didn’t really seem all that serious when it came to battling against the supernatural. He was surprised yet again, at how quickly Dean managed to pick the lock so that the front door was swinging backward into the house.

Castiel pulled his pistol from the holster, holding it firmly as he scanned the front room, walking steadily into the house. He took about four steps when the smell hit him. Death mingled with blood and the smell of something rotting. Castiel lowered his gun as he rounded the final corner into the living room conjoined to what was probably Olivia’s bedroom. And Olivia was on the floor by the bed, her chest cracked open like a werewolf had torn her to shreds in a hungry search for a beating heart. Castiel felt Dean swear in surprise at his shoulder.

“You should call Bobby.” Castiel murmured gently, his eyes scanning the rest of the room.

“That couldn’t have been the Witnesses.” Dean reasoned. There was broken glass near the back of the sofa, and scattered across the wooden floor. Castiel followed the trail up to the window and then back down again towards the disturbed salt line.

“She was prepared for a ghost.” Castiel reasoned as he stepped over the line, his boot crunching on pieces of glass. He walked up the tiny steps into the bedroom, holding his arm to his nose against the smell of decay. The leather only masked so much. Gingerly, Castiel picked up the shotgun, clicking it effortlessly to unload the rounds for Dean to see.

“Salt. Son of a bitch.” Dean swore as he tucked away his gun in favor of his phone, pressing it to his ear as he left the house.

Castiel reached into his pocket for a rag, wiping down the shot gun and laying it back down gingerly. He did the same to the door and the railing as he joined Dean outside by the Impala.

“Bobby still can’t get a hold of Travis.” Dean said as he hung up his phone. Castiel nodded silently. “Why were you wiping down the door?” Dean wondered.

“Clears off our prints,” Castiel explained. “Or at least distort them enough that we can’t be identified when the officials arrive. We don’t have time to give her a hunter’s funeral.” He shoved the handkerchief back into his pocket as he sat back down in the passenger seat. He fumbled about in the glove compartment for one of his extra phones, quickly dialing 9-11 and leaving an anonymous tip.

Dean started the car and drove them back towards the interstate. Once they were about ten minutes away, Castiel tossed his spare phone out the window.

“So where’s Travis’ place again?” Dean wondered.

“Well, we’re in Sisseton now, and the address Bobby gave us for Travis is in Carroll, Iowa.” Castiel spoke as he thought, doubling checking himself on the paper folded in his pocket. He reached forward into the glove box again for a map. He checked the county and the distance with a light shrug. “Probably five hours. Six if we hit traffic.” 

“Great.” Dean muttered. He reached forward and clicked the radio back on to fill the cabin with music from whatever tap-deck Dean had popped in earlier.

Castiel folded the map, slammed the glove box shut and turned off the radio. Dean frowned, glaring at Castiel every now and then, only taking his eyes off the road for a few seconds.

“Tell me what happened this morning.” Castiel demanded.

“You really wanna do this now?” Dean asked. “While I’m driving?”

“You once told me you do most of your thinking while driving,” Castiel reminded him. “So yes.”

“I had a nightmare.” Dean answered simply. Too simply and too quickly. He probably expected Castiel to ask him, and this was his pre-made answer. “Sam caught the worse of it. If I’d known—I wouldn’t have…” Dean’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. Castiel saw the way his jaw clenched around his words, how his shoulders rose stiffly with his breath, but he said no more.

Castiel felt the ice grow tighter between them. It made him uneasy. He didn’t know if Dean was consciously feeling this wall, blocking Castiel from the bond entirely, or if it was an unconscious act because Castiel had been so cold to him earlier.

“It was an accident.” Dean muttered. “And buddy you’re the last one to talk. You pulled a fucking gun on me once.”

“I’m not being hypocritical,” Castiel told him. “I’m concerned. What you did this morning wasn’t out of fear Dean. I would have felt it. There was no nightmare. There was no panic. No anxiety. Nothing Dean. There weren’t any emotions when I woke this morning, which leads me back to my first question. What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Dean barked.

Castiel bit back his next words. That was a lie. Dean’s lip always twitched whenever he was lying. He did know. He knew exactly what happened. He knew why he attacked Sam. He knew it wasn’t fear that drove him. He knew there was this wall separating them, keeping Castiel from seeing—from feeling—everything from Dean like normal.

“What are you keeping from me Dean?” Castiel asked. His voice was quiet but against the silence of the cabin, he might as well have shouted. Dean flinched slightly, but he didn’t take his eyes off the road.

“Why don’t we trade stories?” Dean wondered then, and there was a cynical twist to his smile when he finally turned to stare at Castiel. His eyes were harsh again. The smile disappeared after a blink, and there was nothing but a blank glare. Castiel shook his head in disbelief.

“I have told you everything,” Castiel started. “The one thing that Aniel told me while you were unconscious, she specifically said you weren’t ready to hear yet.”

“That’s a load of horse-shit and you know it.” Dean growled. “And who the fuck gets to say what I’m ready for or not? Huh?” Anger. Anger and fury melted part of that ice wall, only enough for those emotions to sweep over Castiel. There was frustration too and Castiel shook his head in exasperation. “Since when do you take orders from Angels anyway? I thought you didn’t give a shit about them!”

“I never said that.” Castiel cut in sharply. “It’s God that I struggle to understand. Angels and Demons make sense, they are, theologically, two sides of the same coin. But what Aniel said about you, I don’t understand. So do you really want to know? Or are you just trying to distract me so that you can pretend I’ve forgotten about earlier?”

Dean snapped to glare at him again but it only lasted for a second as he turned back to glare at the road. “Damn it Cas, I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Then don’t.” Castiel reasoned.

“I don’t know what else to tell you!” Dean admitted.

“How about you start with the truth?” Castiel asked, his voice rising with his frustration. “What happened this morning?”

“I lost it okay?” Dean sighed and he slammed a hand against the steering wheel. “Sam scared the shit out of me. I thought I was having a nightmare. I flipped. What more do you want me to say Cas?”

Castiel let the words hover around in his mind. He counted the seconds silently as he breathed, and when Dean finally glanced over at him, Castiel shook his head. That wasn’t the truth either. It was the same story just told differently, but it was as far from the truth as the first. Castiel shifted in his seat, staring out the window rather than keeping his gaze on Dean as he drove. There was more. Dean wouldn’t be keeping him out if it was as simple as a nightmare or Sam startling him.

Castiel had seen the look on Dean’s face. The twist of his lips in a snarl as he’d pounced on Sam. He’d seen the curl of his mouth, the faintest hint of a smile when Sam had started to choke for breath. He’d seen the dark shadow cross over Dean’s face before he’d shouted. And he’d seen the horror when Dean had snapped back to reality.

Yes, Castiel had a tendency to jump whenever he was awoken suddenly, but that came with spending night after night falling asleep at the tiniest edge of relaxation. It came with knowing that any creak or noise in a house or a bedroom could be a monster. It came with fearing the dark, and all creatures that dwelled in its shadows.

The thing that Castiel had seen this morning wasn’t defense against fear. It was a cold-blooded assault.

The radio clicked back on, and Castiel startled softly in his seat. Dean was tense behind the wheel, but at least the silence in the cabin was curbed by the rock music pouring from the cassette tape. Castiel checked his watch. Only four hours and forty minutes left to go.

 

 

****************

 

 

Well, Travis’ house was as wrecked as Olivia’s, and Dean was tired. Today was filled with nothing but frustration and disappointment, one spoonful after another. All he wanted right now was a warm shower and a bed. He jumped slightly as his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he fumbled with his jacket while keeping one hand on the wheel.

“Yea?” Dean answered.

 _“I found Jack,”_  Sam’s voice grumbled over the phone quietly.  _“It’s not pretty.”_

“Fuck.” Dean swore and he tossed his head back. None of Bobby’s friends had made it through the night. He was going to love that news. Dean shared a glanced with Cas, and the hunter let out a breath of understanding. “We just left Travis’, and the poor bastard looks like a wendigo caught him. Olivia wasn’t any better. These fucking Witnesses were not messing around last night.”

 _“We really dodged a bullet with this one.”_  Sam murmured, and Dean could hear him fiddling with his car keys before the roar of an engine grumbled over the line.

“You ain’t kidding.” Dean agreed. He watched the road, glad when a sign finally popped up advertising hotels at the next exit. They were nearly six hours away from Bobby’s, and there was no way Dean was making that whole trek back tonight. “We’re gonna crash somewhere here for the night. Head back to Bobby’s in the morning.”

 _“I’ll probably do the same.”_  Sam sighed quietly. Dean nodded silently, and was about to hang up the phone when Sam’s voice caught him again.  _“Hey Dean…”_  Dean pressed the phone back to his ear, listening to the Camaro rolling on the other end while Sam gathered his thoughts.  _“Don’t worry about this morning okay? And don’t let Cas give you a hard time about it. I’ve honestly had worse. I didn’t mean to spook you…”_

“It’s fine Sam,” Dean sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. He swirled the Impala towards the exit. He really needed a bed. And maybe a beer, or two _._ “See you tomorrow.”

Their motel room wasn’t anything special. A bed sat at the center of the room, bordered by two nightstands, one with a lamp on top, the other with an alarm clock. There was a small table in the far left corner which Dean dropped his bag on top off, and the bathroom was off to the right. After dropping his bag, Dean fell face-first into the bed, not even caring about the starchy linens catching against his late-night scruff, or the fact that he was entirely clothed.

“Dean, at least take off your boots.” Cas told him.

Dean opened his eye to see his match peeling off his jacket before sitting down on the empty end of the bed. His back was towards Dean as he tugged off his shirt. Dean’s breath caught in his throat. By now, he should be used to the sight of Castiel’s scarred back. Castiel was practically a soldier. He didn’t always make it out of fights in one piece.

Dean knew each and every scar that crossed along the golden-tan skin of Castiel’s back. He knew the ghost of the Hook Man gave Castiel the thickest one running up his right shoulder blade and down to his collar bone. He knew the four lines under Castiel’s left arm along his ribs were from his hunt in Tallahassee. Castiel and Balthazar went up against a pack of werewolves near a full-moon cycle and barely made it out alive. Those were the few scars that Castiel told him about, late at night. Dean knew all the others because he’d rubbed and kissed each during their longer showers or sleepless nights. But there were three that were new, fresher—Dean had noticed them in the shower last night, but he didn’t have the courage to ask Cas about them.

Even now, as Cas unlaced his boots, his back bowing, Dean could make out the scars clearly. They were half hidden under his jeans, three jagged lines like claw marks that traveled down to his left hip under his clothes. They weren’t thick, but they were still dark, not completely healed like the other white scars decorating Cas’ shoulders and arms. Dean reached his hand out slowly, almost afraid to touch, but his fingers ghosted along Castiel’s spine anyway. The hunter tossed him a glance over his shoulder, but said nothing.

“These are new.” Dean ventured, knowing the statement was pointless.

 “It was a daeve.” Cas muttered.

“A what?” Dean asked quietly.

“It’s a type of demon,” Cas answered with a quiet sigh. “More monster than demon actually. All you can see of them is their shadow, and their claws can be lethal. Usually they’re bound to another demon. There was one murdering in Chicago about four months back. I couldn’t get a hold of Sam, so I handled it on my own.”

“Why couldn’t you get a hold of Sam?” Dean wondered. “Why would you go hunt something so dangerous by yourself? There had to be someone…” Dean’s words fell short when Cas finally turned completely to face him.

“There was no one I trusted Dean.” Cas told him flatly.

That cold haze had settled back into his eyes, and it hurt Dean to know that this time, he’d put it there. It was his fault that no one was around to help Cas on the hunt. He’d made the deal. He’d been dragged to Hell. And he’d left Cas with Sam to deal with the fall out. Dean swallowed at the tiny ache that crept into his chest along the wall of ice between them.

“Sam took off after we buried you.” Cas continued casual and cold. “I didn’t hear from him for almost two months. Even when he did come back, he never stayed for more than five or six days at a time. He would find himself another case to work and take off. I don’t think he could stand the thought of being at Bobby’s without you.”

Dean didn’t know what to say to that. Was there anything he could really say? He’d been in Hell for six months, as good as dead to Cas, Sam and Bobby—everyone, and they’d had to try to move on without him. But the thought of Cas hunting on his own, going on cases that were too dangerous for anyone to take on alone made Dean shiver.

When Cas stood to kick off his jeans, Dean shifted enough to do the same, kicking off his boots, jeans and shirt. He clicked off the light afterwards and slipped under the covers as Cas settled along his edge of the bed. Dean swallowed thickly because that ache was growing in his chest, chipping away steadily at the ice wall as Dean reached out across the bed.

The touch was soft, gentle, his fingers barely brushing along Castiel’s waist. It was enough though, a familiar old habit that had Castiel sighing heavily but rolling into Dean’s side without a second hesitation. Dean pressed a kiss to his forehead, knowing full well that Cas was still angry with him, and no amount of kisses or touches could make up for that. But Cas didn’t seem to mind. He tilted his head back so that Dean’s next kiss was on his cheek, and the third was on his lips.

Dean meant for the kiss to be light and gentle, a reminder that he was here, that he wasn’t going to leave again. No matter how much they bickered and fought, Dean still loved the stubborn bastard. It was Cas who tilted his head back further while dragging his fingers down Dean’s shoulder. It was Cas who deepened the kiss, pulling Dean closer suddenly, roughly, to the point that they rolled together along the bed. Dean grunted when Castiel’s teeth tugged at his lip, his nails digging into Dean’s hips as they rocked into the lumpy bed.

Cas was getting hard in his boxers. Dean could feel the heat coming off his match in waves as the kisses grew shorter and quicker, wet passes of lips against lips. Cas was grabbing at Dean roughly. One hand at his neck tugged at his hair hard enough that Dean gasped, letting Castiel’ tongue slide in along his. The other hand shoved away the covers between them and hooked around Dean’s waist, keeping him in place completely on top of Cas. So now maybe Cas wasn’t the only one who was hard.

“Cas…” Dean managed the small gasp when Castiel finally pulled away from his mouth. Dean couldn’t see the expression on his face; the room was too dark. Somehow though, Dean had a feeling Cas was glaring at him.

“Now you want to talk?” Castiel grumbled. Dean felt his fingers dragging down his back to his boxers, tugging the elastic away.

“So you’re still pissed.” Dean muttered. Castiel gave him a soft hum of agreement. He yanked at the cloth stuck around Dean’s thighs, and Dean pushed himself up enough that Cas could pull his boxers off completely. He didn’t waste any time yanking Castiel’s off either.

 Cas was back on him the second Dean settled in his lap. His hands raked over his skin, tugging, pulling, caressing. His nails dug into his back, his waist, his thighs, his ass. Dean winced at the small sting of nails catching over his skin.

 

 ** _Nails digging hard enough to draw blood_** —

 

No. This was his Cas. He was fine. Dean surged forward, catching Castiel’s lips in his own, forcing the thoughts from his head.

Cas’ lips were hard kisses, pressing against his. Cas kissed and sucked and licked into his mouth, making Dean moan hotly into the next kiss. Castiel nipped at his bottom lip, forcing Dean’s to part again. Teeth clashed together as Dean tilted his head, and Castiel pulled back to bite at his lip again. Then his chin, then his neck, bites grazing down along Dean’s skin—

 

**_Bites that left marks._ **

**_Bites that tore skin._ **

**_Bites that felt hot and hard and stung and pulled_** —

 

Dean swallowed thickly, pushing himself closer to Cas. As if that would chase the images away. As if his warmth could stop it all. Dean fell into Cas’ rough kisses, Cas’ hot hands pulling at his waist and back, trying not to wince into the kiss.

Cas rolled his hips slowly and it caught Dean off guard. His match was a hard line beneath him, and his cock pressed up into Dean, nearly catching on his hole, heavy and dry—

 

 ** _Dry and hard, pushing and tearing, thrusting and slapping and grinding_** —

 

Dean sucked in a sharp breath, freezing above Cas as his own screams of pain echoed in his mind. “Cas—” Dean choked as his heart pounded in his chest with fear.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, stopping as soon as Dean froze.

But Dean couldn’t speak. He didn’t trust his voice to come out steady. He didn’t trust himself not to scream. Dean forced himself to breathe and he shook his head, a poor attempt to rid his mind of these stupid images and the ice in his chest.

“K-kiss me again.” Dean murmured, his voice trembling even to his own ears.

“Dean, you’re shaking.” Cas whispered. He hadn’t felt the tremors start, but now that Cas mentioned it, he was right. Dean was shivering like he was cold despite the heat of their bodies trapped under the covers. He shouldn’t be this cold.

This was Cas. This was  _his_  Cas. Things were different. He was home. They were back to normal. Everything was fine now. Dean shouldn’t be having these thoughts. He shouldn’t be shaking. Not when it was Cas— _his Cas_  beneath him, holding him, kissing him, touching him.

Dean swallowed before he tried to speak. He could get past this. He had to get past this. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.” Cas accused, his voice rough. He sat up from the bed, but he kept his arm around Dean’s waist, forcing him to stay in Castiel’s lap. He fumbled along the nightstand until Dean heard the click of the lamp. Dean winced at the sudden light and tried not to flinch outright at the flash of yellow. “Why do you insist on lying to me when you know it doesn’t work?”

Dean tried to roll his eyes and shake off the accusation. “I’m not lying Cas—”

“Yes you are.” Cas gritted through his teeth.

Dean tried to hide how his whole body shook at the growl. He tried to hide how his hips twitched away from Castiel’s grip when it tightened along his waist. Dean swallowed thickly, closing his eyes when he noticed Cas’ hand reach up to his face. God he hoped that didn’t look like a flinch.

_This was Cas. This was his Cas._

“Dean, look at me please.” Castiel murmured, his hand gentle and slow as his fingers rubbed warmly over the scruff along his chin. Slowly, Dean opened his eyes. The frustration was gone from Castiel’s gaze. All that was left was concern. “What aren’t you telling me Dean? Why are you shutting me out? Why won’t you let me help?”

Despite the softness of Castiel’s voice, Dean could hear the fury, the frustration, the confusion that lined Cas’ words. It made the tremors worse. The shakes rocked through Dean’s chest. He took in a slow breath. It wasn’t enough. Dean shook his head, trying to get out of Castiel’s grip on his chin. Cas let his hand fall, but the one around his waist tightened.

Dean panicked.

 

**_All he saw was red and black. All he could smell was blood and fire._ **

**_Arms he knew held him tight. They held him close. They held him down. They kept him shackled to the rack while fingers pulled at his body, at his skin. Nails dug down his waist, his ass, his thighs, biting into his skin enough to draw blood, enough to peel skin._ **

_“Don’t—”_

_“Dean it’s me.”_

**_The voice sounded like Cas, but it wasn’t Cas’. No, it was his match, it had to be. But it couldn’t be. His match wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t. But he was. Those were his hands running over Dean’s thighs, up his side, down his hip_** —

 

Dean threw the punch before he could think otherwise because his hands weren’t chained down this time. He threw himself from the bed, standing and breathing heavily. His eyes shot open at the shock that ricocheted through his arm and his chest. Then he felt the sting across his own cheek and mouth. Cas picked himself up slowly from the bed, fingers touching tenderly to his now bleeding lip.

Dean’s hands shook at his side. He stared in fear between Cas and his fist. His knuckles were scrapped red and his fingers shook as he released the fist. “Cas I—I’m sorry. I…I can’t—”

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He’d just punched Cas. He punched Cas hard enough that Dean felt the sting on his own jaw. Dean shivered. There was ice in his chest again. It was thick and cold, lodged in his throat, melting only enough to send shivers through his veins to keep him shaking. Cas merely started at him, a mix of understanding and frustration clear in his gaze, a hand still pressed to his lip to catch the blood dripping down his chin.

“Just now, what you felt, I know that.” Castiel told him, his voice steady against the pounding of Dean’s heart in his chest and the roar of blood in his ears. “I’ve felt that before, for months after my parents were killed.” Castiel explained, watching Dean carefully now. “It’s a trigger reaction Dean. Caused by past trauma. It happened so briefly before, I couldn’t catch it. Dean, take a deep breath.”

The longer Castiel talked, the worse it made Dean feel. His mind was constantly stuck in two worlds. One he didn’t want to look at, didn’t want to remember, but couldn’t forget. The second was reality. The second one was this world, here, now, where Cas was his loving match and wouldn’t lay a hand on him to hurt him. A world where Dean punched him across the face hard enough to draw blood.

How could Cas be so calm about this? Dean couldn’t catch his breath, and it only hitched when Castiel stood up suddenly. Dean didn’t feel the step he took away from Cas, but he saw the shock on Cas’ face. Slowly, the hunter raised his hands, and stepped back to the bed.

“Dean, take a deep breath.” Castiel told him. “Just one. Do it with me okay?”

Dean knew this routine. He knew what Cas was trying to do. He knew why his breaths were coming short, why his chest felt heavy and tight, why his whole body shook. “Fuck.” Dean hissed, his fingers raking through his hair. “I…I can’t—”

“Yes you can. Watch me.” Castiel ordered, and Dean found himself staring obediently at Cas, breathing as deep as Cas, but shaking the whole time. “Good. One more time.”

Dean felt his chest loosening. He felt the ice thinning in his blood, but he couldn’t stop shaking. His shoulders felt tense, and his gaze fell to Castiel’s lip as the wound continued to bleed. Dean clenched and unclenched his hands as his eyes burned at the sight.

“Cas I’m sorry.” Dean murmured quietly. Guilt wound tight around his lungs, threatening to squeeze the breath out of him again. This morning he’d attacked Sam. And now Cas. Dean fisted his hands into his hair, hitting the back wall with his next step. They weren’t safe around him. He couldn’t control himself. He was dangerous—

“Dean, look at me.” Castiel’s voice broke through the haze again, and Dean glanced up to find his match a few steps away from him. There was a gentle smile on his face despite the blood trailing down his jaw. “It’s okay Dean. I’m not mad.” Cas promised him. “You’re not dangerous, not to me. You think I would fear you? After all the things I’ve seen and all we’ve hunted together?”

Dean’s next breath came a little easier. He drew his hands from his hair, swearing quietly as they shook at his side. Castiel tilted his head down to catch Dean’s gaze again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Castiel asked quietly.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath, his head twitching at the thought. “I—It won’t happen again. I know it’s different here.” Dean realized his mistake as soon as he said it. He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have said it was different  _here_ , rather than where he had been, in Hell.

Castiel’s face lit up in understanding, and then darkened as he took another step back, nearly falling on the bed again. Dean winced inwardly, feeling the horror, surprise and regret that mixed in Castiel’s chest and his eyes. The horror was there as Castiel continued to stare at him.

“You…you told Sam you didn’t remember.” Castiel whispered, as if he was afraid to say it aloud. He took a few steps closer to Dean again, reaching a hand out slowly. Dean didn’t shy away from his touch. This time he let Cas’ fingers weave around his wrist and pull him towards the bed. “You lied to him.”

Dean didn’t know what to say to that. Yes. He’d lied to Sam. No, he didn’t want to talk about it. He especially didn’t want to tell Cas. It happened and Dean wanted to forget the whole thing. He wanted to bury it as far down in his mind as he could so the images wouldn’t haunt him anymore. He wanted nothing more than to lie in this bed with Cas without feeling so cold, without shaking, without lashing out in fear and panic. He wanted things to be normal again.

As Dean slid back under the covers on his side of the bed, Cas only stared in silence. The pillow under Dean’s cheek was soft and still warm, as if nothing had happened in the past four minutes. Dean wished he could take it all back, rewind the last few moments to when Cas was holding him close and kissing him instead of sitting on the edge of the bed, wary to come any closer. Dean chewed his tongue as he reached a hand out, his fingers brushed over Castiel’s wrist, silently pulling him closer.

“Can we just…” Dean could hear the tremors in his voice, threatening to send him back into another panic attack if he spoke too much. “Can we forget about it? Please?”

“That wouldn’t be fair to you.” Castiel murmured as he pulled the covers over his waist.

Dean let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a sob. He rolled onto his side, forcing himself closer to Cas—his Cas—the real Cas. The hunter who had Dean’s mark, and his heart, and whose hands were warm as they stroked timidly over his cheek.

When Dean opened his eyes again, he found that Cas’ gaze was heavy and thick. Dean didn’t try to smile, but he leaned forward enough that Cas understood his want. The kiss was soft this time, gentle and slow. Cas didn’t push, he let Dean kiss however he wanted, letting Dean drag him closer so they were flushed together under the warming blankets.

Dean sighed in relief as the tremors died the longer they kissed. His heart was racing, but it was nice now. It was because Cas kept kissing him slowly while he ran his fingers through Dean’s hair. And with every slow kiss, Dean felt that ice wall crumble bit by bit. It wasn’t completely gone when Dean pulled away, but it was enough that Dean didn’t feel sick to his stomach and cold.

Cas gave him a soft smile, rolling over to switch off the light. The room fell to darkness once more. Castiel’s arm was loose around Dean’s waist, and the only comfort Dean could latch onto as Castiel sunk heavily into the bed.

“I’m sorry Cas.” Dean whispered into his neck. Cas placed a kiss to his forehead.

“You don’t owe me an apology.” Castiel spoke quietly, but Dean heard his voice rumble through his chest.  “Try to get some sleep.”

Dean nodded stiffly, his eyes shut tight as Cas held him close, stroking his hand through Dean’s hair until he fell asleep.


	6. Last Thing on Your Mind

Eight hours later, Sam walked through the front door of Bobby’s house, tossing his keys onto the table near the door. He frowned at the shout that came down the hallway the next instant.

“It’s a load of bull shit Cas!” That was Dean yelling in the living room. Sam toed his way towards the doorway as quietly as possible to peak into the room without disrupting the conversation.

Dean was pacing from one side of the rug-covered hardwood floor to the other, which Sam knew was never a good sign. Dean was only this restless when he was upset about something. Cas was sitting on the sofa, his head in his hands, his elbows pressed into his knees where his jeans were ripped. The sleeves on his black over-shirt were pushed up past his forearms and the collar was half undone on one side. He probably threw it on this morning in a rush.

The coffee table was shoved close to the sofa, the only thing sitting between Castiel and Dean. It was stacked with teetering piles of books, scrolls, and notebook papers.

“Whether you believe it or not is irrelevant,” Castiel snapped his head up when Dean stood in front of him. Sam balked at the healing scab at the corner of Castiel’s mouth. When had that gotten there? “It doesn’t change the fact that this is happening, and we have a chance to help stop it.”

Dean froze under Castiel’s gaze long enough for the hunter to speak. Sam took another step into the room and Castiel’s eyes focused on the sudden movement instantly. That was a hunter’s tick if Sam ever saw one. Cas was scary like that. He didn’t miss a beat.

It took Dean a few seconds to wonder what Cas was staring at though. Maybe he was a bit rusty. It had only been a week since he was rescued after all. Dean turned after a second, and he smiled ruefully at Sam.

“Wonderful! The voice of reason has returned.” Dean said with a wave of his arm. “Sammy, could you please tell Cas that there is no fucking way that Lilith might actually succeed in breaking Lucifer free?”

Sam was a bit taken aback by that question. Was that what they were arguing about just now? Sam raised an eyebrow, glancing between his friend and his brother. They seemed tense. Something else happened last night, and Sam had a feeling it had to do with the healing scab at the corner of Cas’ mouth. The hunter kept his gaze down on the books in front of him while Dean stared at Sam, waiting for an answer.

“Are you serious?” Sam scoffed. “You think Lilith can’t?” He asked.

Cas picked his head up from the books with a cruel smile on his face. “See?” He told Dean, pointing at Sam. “At least your brother has some sense.”

“Do you guys not get how fucking crazy this sounds?” Dean asked, rubbing his hands over his face in exasperation. “Sixty-six seals on the damn Devil’s cage. That’s it? You’re only going to put a few locks on the big-bad wolf’s house and hope no one goes huffing and puffing to blow that door down? It’s utter bull-shit!” Dean stood near the TV as he spoke, his eyes flickering from Sam to Cas as he spoke.

Sam had to admit, he had a point.

“And I keep telling you,” Cas butted in before Sam could get a sentence out. “There are over a hundred seals on Lucifer’s cage. Aniel said Lilith only needs to break sixty-six.”

“Yea that’s another thing I ain’t buying.” Dean’s voice lowered, and the sick smile was back on his face. It was the same one that made Sam shiver as Dean walked closer to the coffee table. “Who _the fuck_ decided to give Lilith the damn keys to opening the Devil’s box? I mean, what’s the point of caging Lucifer if the son of a bitch can have a demon pop him loose like that?” Dean snapped his fingers.

“Lucifer isn’t just the devil Dean.” Sam said but he feared that he was too quiet against his brother’s angry words. Cas heard him though, and he nodded in agreement, drawing Dean’s attention again. When Dean stopped pacing, Sam continued, “Lucifer was an Angel before he fell remember? We saw how powerful Aniel was. Can you imagine the power an Archangel can have? Trapping him in Hell couldn’t have been easy to start.”

“Coulda fooled me with how easy it seems to bust him out.” Dean muttered under his breath.

Sam waved a hand at the books Cas was obviously sorting through. “Cas says there are over a hundred seals! Maybe Lilith just needs to break a few and the Devil can spring himself loose. We don’t know how powerful he is. But we know Lilith is strong.” Sam added when Dean started to roll his eyes. “We do. You of all people can’t deny that Dean. She’s the real threat. We should be going after her.”

“Right. Because that worked out so well the first time.” Dean grumbled.

Sam wished he hadn’t. Cas grew tense the second the words were out of Dean’s mouth, and Sam pursed his lips, glaring at Dean when he turned back around to pace towards Bobby’s desk.

“Last time we didn’t have the Angels.” Sam told him, more to reassure Cas than anything. “This time we do. Maybe Aniel can help us track her down. You said they’re fighting to keep some of the seals from breaking right?” Sam asked as he turned his attention back to Cas.

“Aniel did mention they’re at war,” Cas muttered with a gentle nod. “Some seals are probably more violent than others. They’re keeping the demons from breaking more severe seals.”

“More severe than the Witnesses?” Sam questioned.

“She said it was one of many.” Cas answered tightly. He waved a hand across the table in front of him, drawing the brothers’ gaze to the books, tomes and scrolls. “I’ve been reading since we returned this afternoon. At least now I have some idea of what I’m looking for anyway. Anything that hints at being the start of Judgment Day, or a clue of an Apocalypse, I’m going to assume is a potential seal.”

“A potential seal?” Dean echoed.

Cas nodded gently. “The longer I read, the more I find, and it’s not as if these transcripts blatantly state these events as being seals. But, if Lilith has enough support to spread the Angels thin,” Castiel explained, glancing over at Dean who was still looking skeptic as he walked steadily from one edge of the rug to the other. “Sam may have a point. Lilith is our biggest concern. If we can find which seals she’s likely to go after maybe we can stop her. At the very least, we can save a few seals.”

“So, what?” Dean wondered as he stopped pacing. “Did we get recruited to Angel Army or something?” Dean asked.

Sam couldn’t exactly read the expression that passed over Castiel’s face. It was sour though, like Dean’s question wasn’t too far off, but that was more than Cas was willing to share. He ran his fingers through his hair as he sunk back into his seat. He stared at the coffee table, tossing his hand up at the last second.

“Well, essentially we want the same thing.” Castiel offered. “Neither us, nor the Angels want to see Lucifer set free. It’d be mutually beneficial to help them whenever they need it.”

“How could Angels need our help?” Dean asked. “We’re humans. They’re Angels. And just yesterday you were saying Angels were the other side of the demon coin! Now you want to trust them?”

“Aniel pulled you out of Hell.” Castiel practically shouted, but he pulled his voice back at the last second, pinching the bridge of his nose. He took a breath before trying to speak again. “We owe her for that. I’m not saying we trust all the Angels. But I’m willing to trust her.”

“You flatter me, Castiel.”

Everyone jumped at the woman’s voice coming from the fire place. Sam whipped around so quickly he knocked over a few papers from Bobby’s desk.

The woman standing on the other side of the table had dark red hair that looked wind-swept as it rested over her shoulders. She was much shorter than Sam, but probably the same height as Ruby. She was dressed like a business woman in a white blouse, a long gray coat, dark trousers and high heeled boots. She smiled at Sam, but the action looked forced, without an ounce of kindness. Her eyes were a bright auburn, and they were intense as she stared at him. Sam swallowed. Aniel didn’t blink as she held his gaze, and Sam tried not to shiver as her eyes flickered over his body, then over his shoulder at Dean.

“You take after your Father.” Aniel noted, a hint of curiosity in her voice. “Dean is much more like your Mother, but there is a resemblance. I admit, I find it fascinating how two humans can have similar genetic coding and yet their physical appearance can contrast so vastly.”

“You’re Aniel?” Sam figured, and this time her smile seemed more genuine. “Wow.” Sam murmured softly. An Angel. He was actually face-to-face with an Angel. She looked human though. Sam glanced over his shoulder at Cas, who was standing from the sofa now, and then Dean, who was rigid two steps behind him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well Sam.” Aniel spoke as she stepped around the desk. “I have heard many things about you. The young boy with demon blood in his veins, and yet you never succumbed to the darkness.”

Those fucking eyes. They didn’t match the words tumbling out of her mouth. The color was warm but her glare was cold. Contradicting. Condescending.

 _She knew_. That gaze said more than her words, and Sam swallowed against the rising panic in his throat. Luckily, her eyes left him in favor of staring at Cas over his shoulder.

“Castiel. Dean.” Her head bowed only slightly in acknowledgement, and Sam stepped aside so she could peruse the books on the coffee table. “You’ve been looking into the seals? I can tell you there won’t be another opportunity to break a seal for at least three weeks.”

“Do you Angels have like a master list of this stuff?” Dean wondered, and Sam tried not to groan at the snark in his words. “Cause if you do that’d be just swell. Don’t you think that’s something you outta share with the class?”

Aniel tilted her head curiously as she closed the book in her hands. “I am not your enemy Dean.” She told him, smiling almost sweetly. “But neither am I your subordinate, and I believe it would do you well to remember that.” She placed the book back down on the table and rubbed her hands together. Her attention shifted from Cas to Sam, then back at Dean, as if checking that they were all listening intently.

“I came to tell you that you will have three weeks rest.” She spoke steadily, but her voice held a tone that Sam couldn’t exactly place. “We are certain that Lilith will strike a seal that requires the Harvest Moon. Since you agreed to help, we will call on you then for your assistance should we need it.”

“The Harvest Moon?” Dean asked.

“Full Moon in October.” Cas answered gently.

“Yes. Some seals are extremely specific.” Aniel explained further. “This October, the full moon coincides with the final harvest day, which is a key requirement to break a seal.”

“Where?” Dean asked. He had his arms folded over his chest, and that rough frown hadn’t left his face either. Sam knew that look. Dean thought Aniel was lying. Or at the very least, he didn’t think she was giving them all the details. Sam turned the idea in his mind with a nod when Dean glanced at him again. There was probably a ton of information the Angels were keeping from them. She was an Angel after all.

“Location is not crucial for this seal, only time.” Aniel told him. Dean scoffed and let his arms fall back to his sides.

“So, you guys don’t know.” Dean said as he walked into the kitchen. Sam winced as he opened the fridge door for a beer. Aniel tilted her head curiously as Dean walked back with the open bottle pressed to his lips. “Anything else you guys need to tell us? Besides the fact that we just became your hunting bitches?”

“Dean.” Cas hissed in warning, but Aniel smiled. Sam wasn’t too sure if she was smiling at Cas, or the situation. He didn’t have time to figure it out.

The same sound Sam remembered hearing during the séance with Pamela started to fill the room. The shrill ring grew louder, stronger, and it vibrated throughout the house. It scratched against Sam’s ears, grinding in his head. He covered his ears, wincing at the pain that slashed through his mind.

Dean’s beer shattered on the floor as he fell to his knees. Sam couldn’t stand much longer either. He crashed to the floor as Bobby’s radio suddenly went haywire and the TV flickered to a static station. Cringing against the noise, Sam managed to open his eyes enough to see Aniel, standing strong, watching Cas carefully. How the hell was Cas standing? He didn’t seem affected by the ringing at all. Only when Dean let out a groan over the ringing did Cas visibly wince.

Aniel squared her shoulders suddenly, and Cas gave her a stiff nod. In the next blink, the Angel was gone. The ringing disappeared with her, and Sam gasped in a thankful breath as the pain subsided.

“Are you both all right?” Cas asked, stepping around the coffee table to help Sam stand. “Could you hear her at all?” Cas wondered quietly, but Sam shook his head. His ears were still sore and buzzing.

“Hear her?” Sam echoed, but he shook his head numbly. “That ringing was her voice?”

“Her true voice, yes.” Cas answered, letting Sam go gently to check up on Dean. He was shaking his head roughly, kneeling back on his haunches as he massaged his temples.

“What the fuck did she have to say to you that she couldn’t say to us?” Dean snapped as he dropped his hands down into his lap. “How come you can hear through all that _noise_ but we can’t?”

“I don’t know.” Cas answered quietly, a balm against Dean’s anger. “She said certain people can hear Angels, most people can’t.”

“That’s weird.” Sam murmured, but Cas only rolled his eyes as he helped Dean to stand again. “So, we get three weeks rest. And then what?”

“We’ll find out in three weeks.” Cas muttered with a shrug. “She didn’t tell me anything else about the seals,” He added quickly when Dean opened his mouth to speak. “I know everything you know.”

“Then, what did she say to you?” Sam wondered, while Dean stormed back into the kitchen, probably for another beer. Cas rolled his lips thoughtfully, glancing back at Dean but quickly drawing his gaze away again.

“What she always tells me.” Cas sighed as he fell back down into the couch. Sam let out a rough breath and tossed his hands out to his side.

“I can’t leave the house for more than ten God damned minutes without you fucking idijts ‘causin’ a ruckus?!” Bobby’s voice bellowed from the back room. Dean turned quickly to open the patio door for his uncle.

“Aniel dropped in for a visit.” Dean answered with the same sour smile on his face.

“We got Angels making house calls now?” Bobby asked. “The hell did she want?”

“It was nothing like that Bobby,” Sam cut in, rubbing his ears gently. He walked over to the radio and the TV, shutting them both off. “She told us that Lilith’s going after a seal in three weeks. And we gotta help.”

“Oh goody.” Bobby joked, wheeling around Castiel’s stack of books near the coffee table towards the back of his desk. “While you boys are on vacation, head down to the Roadhouse. Ellen won’t get off my ass about it.”

“Shit.” Dean whispered. “You told Ellen I was back?”

“You ever try lying to that woman?” Bobby asked. “Go, now, or I’m gonna shoot you.”

 

 

\-------------------------------

 

 

If Sam was being honest, Jo’s reaction shouldn’t have surprised him. Yet he was shocked when the Impala rolled up to the dirt parking lot and Jo was already stomping out from the noisy Roadhouse, heading straight for them. Well, straight for Dean actually. And Sam should have warned his brother right as he stepped out of the car, but self-preservation told him to keep quiet. Dean was all warm smiles and arms outstretched for a welcomed hug. He didn’t see Jo’s hands clutched into fists at her side.

Instead of a hug, Jo socked him right across the jaw. Dean stumped back into Cas, who helped him regain his balance, and then held him still so that Jo could lay into him again.

“You—sick—son of a—bitch!” Jo shouted as she punched Dean again, once across the face, twice in the arm, and a final punch to his gut. Dean reeled forward in pain as Cas released him with a small smirk on his face that he shared with Jo. She was breathing heavy, her hands clenched at her sides as she gave Dean a few seconds to breathe.

“Hiya Jo,” Dean groaned. “It’s nice to see you too.”

“Oh that’s all you got to say to me?” Jo sneered. “You know, Mom kept telling me it was some fucking twisted shit you must’ve got yourself into, bringing Cas back after that fiasco in Wyoming. I didn’t want to believe her. I wanted to be happy that we all made it out alive! But no. You went and made a fucking CROSS-ROADS DEAL!”

“Whoa, whoa,” Dean held up his hands, taking a shaky step back to dodge Jo’s next swing. “Okay, yes, I shoulda told you guys about that—”

“ _Six months_!” Jo yelled. “You were dead for six months Dean! What did you think was gonna happened after you died? After everything we’d been through?!” Jo shouted, waving her hands out again.

Dean flinched lightly, stumbling back into Castiel’s shoulder. Sam couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him then, and Jo whirled at the sound.

“And _you_!” Jo hissed, pointing a finger at Sam.

The laughter caught in his throat as Jo stomped towards him. He staggered back a step, but found his legs hitting the Impala’s hood. Jo pressed forward, raising herself on her toes to shout in his face.

“Why can’t pick up the God-damn phone?” She barked. “I haven’t heard from you in three months! If Bobby wasn’t keeping tabs with my mom, and Cas hadn’t come to visit once a week, I wouldn’t know jack shit about you!”

Sam winced at Jo’s words. Yea, he was guilty of cutting everyone off after Dean had been dragged to Hell. He didn’t speak to Cas for two months, drunk every other night, hunting to hide his grief. Even after Ruby picked him up and dusted him off, Sam hadn’t stayed around Bobby’s longer than he needed to—mostly it was just to check in on Cas and his Uncle.

Jo huffed her last bit of anger as she gave Sam some space. Her hands were clutched into fists at her side as she stared between the two of them. A beat of silence passed before Sam realized Jo was expecting them to say something. Sam shared a weary glance with his brother, afraid of opening his own mouth and accidentally invoking Jo’s rage again.

“Don’t supposed an ol’ fashion ‘I’m sorry’ would do?” Dean finally found his voice as he rubbed his jaw and his lips, making sure nothing was bleeding or broken as he dusted off his shirt and straightened his jacket.

Jo rolled her jaw, her fingers flexing again. For a moment, it made Sam wonder if she had a few knives tucked away under her apron, and if that flex was actually a twitch that she was barely containing.

“It’s been a crazy week.” Dean added softly.

Jo snapped her hand forward, pointing forcefully at Dean. “You’re coming inside and you’re gonna tell me _everything_. Or so help me Dean Winchester—”

Dean raised his hands instantly, as if Jo’s finger were a load pistol aimed at his heart. “Whatever you say Jo.” He murmured softly, a gentle smile on his face despite the small bit of terror Sam could make out in his eyes.

Jo let out a breath sharply and nodded. Her shoulders fell as the anger slipped away slowly. She wiped her face clean of the few tears that gathered at her eyes, and she muttered angrily under her breath. But Sam could see the tension draining out of her shoulders, and her hands relaxed to normal at her side as she took a deep breath.

The next instant, her arms were wrapped around Dean’s neck, holding him tightly. Dean was caught off guard, so it took him a few seconds to realize Jo was hugging him rather than attacking him again, and he hugged her back softly.

“You ever pull another fucking stunt like that—” Jo started.

“Trust me.” Dean laughed as he rubbed Jo’s back soothingly. “I don’t plan to anytime soon.”

Jo stepped away with a bright smile on her face, if not a few tears in her eyes. “Good. You still owe me that story.”

 

 

*******         

 

 

Jo found them seats at the bar.

Dean couldn’t help feeling a little at home in the smoky air, the smooth rock music playing in the background, the pool balls clicking behind him, and the chatter of a busy weekend night at the Roadhouse. They were sitting towards the edge of the bar, closer to the kitchen then the rest, which was good. It was as secluded as they could get in the saloon while Jo kept working. She served them each a beer, put in their usual orders, and sat cleaning a few glasses while staring at Dean expectantly.

“Ain’t getting any younger here.” She muttered, setting down a clean glass in favor for a dirty one.

“I made a deal to get Cas back, got three years, couldn’t get out of it, went to Hell, and now I’m back.” Dean answered steadily, shrugging afterwards and taking a small sip from his beer.

“Why only three years?” Jo asked. “I thought the standard deal was ten.”

“Apparently Cas was hot commodity downstairs.” Dean said with a leer at his match. Castiel rolled his eyes and took a long drag from the beer Jo placed in front of him.

“Uh-huh. Then tell me how you got back without pitch-black eyes.” Jo demanded, nearly slamming down on of the glasses in exchange for another. She never took her eyes from Dean. He frowned as he pressed the cool bottle against his jaw where Jo had first punched him.

“What?”

“Dean, how do you think demons are made?” Jo asked.

“Well I assumed it was like all other non-human babies,” Dean figured with a side-glance towards Sammy and Cas. “Ya know, a Mommy-demon and a Daddy-demon—”

Sam snickered around his beer bottle while Jo rolled her eyes.

“No, Dean. Demons are humans—or were. Their souls get twisted in Hell until there’s nothing human left of them.” Jo explained tartly as she stacked the spotless glasses on the wall behind her.

Dean ignored the shiver than ran down his spine. Though, if he sat a little straighter in his seat, neither Sam nor Cas gave him a second glance.

“And demons are twisted enough that sometimes they break free of Hell. So, how did you manage to get loose without a pair of black shiners?” Jo wondered quietly, her voice softer as her fingers drummed against the wooden bar.

“Dean was saved,” Sam answered for him. “By an Angel.”

Jo tossed him a confused frown. “There’s no such thing.” She said.

“That was what I assumed as well.” Castiel spoke up after a long drink from his beer. “But we were proven wrong. The Angel’s name is Aniel. She was the one who pulled Dean out of the pit.”

Jo blinked as she glanced between the three men. Dean pursed his lips around a swig of beer, swallowing with a heavy nod. Jo whistled lowly. “Wow. That’s…” She rubbed her forehead as her words left her entirely.

“Told you. It’s been a crazy week.” Dean murmured, tapping his finger against the neck of his beer bottle. “We would have swung by sooner, but Bobby had us checkin’ up on some old friends.”

“Mom said she got a call from Bobby yesterday,” Jo agreed. “Said something was taking out hunters the other night?”

Dean rolled his lips gently, so Sam picked up the story. “So, back in Wyoming,” Sam started, clearing his throat when Jo glared at him. “Turns out Azazel wasn’t just opening the Devil’s gate for kicks. He was letting out another demon. Lilith. We were trying to knock her out last year, even more so after we found out she was the one holding Dean’s contract.”

“That…didn’t go so well.” Jo figured gently.

“Understatement.” Castiel muttered as he slid his now empty bottle across the table. Jo took it and replaced it with practices ease.

“So this Lilith was the one going after hunters? Seems like low game for a high-rank demon.” Jo said, leaning her elbows on the counter with her own beer clutched in her hands.

“Yea, it is.” Sam said. “Anyway, there was this spell—”

“Hey miss! Can we get another round here?” A man called across the bar. Jo set down her beer and sighed.

“Hold that thought Sammy.” She muttered as she twirled to serve the men across the counter.

Dean chewed his lips gently as he watched Jo wander off. He turned to glare at Sam, who sunk against the counter, his hands wrapped around his own bottle. When he caught Dean’s glare, Sam balked slightly.

“What?” Sam wondered.

“You were being picky with your words.” Dean muttered.

“So?” Sam wondered.

“This is Jo, we can trust her.” Dean added.

“Dean, we’re also at the Roadhouse.” Cas jutted in, his eyes still roaming over the tables and counters across the room. “There are a few hunters here who would be…less than happy to find out we were the ones who couldn’t stop the gate from opening in Wyoming. Or the rising of the Witnesses. And we shouldn’t bring up the Apoca—” 

“Shouldn’t bring up the what?” Jo asked, drying her hands on a gray dishtowel. Cas swallowed the rest of his sentence with another gulp of his second beer.

Dean sighed quietly. “These two would rather we tell you some stuff later.” Dean explained. “Ya know when there’s less—” Dean glanced around the crowded bar as he thought of a word. “Less traffic blowing through.”

“What’s so bad you can’t tell me now?” Jo asked, chuckling despite the worry in her gaze. “What was this you were going on about a spell?” She wondered.

“Right uh—this spell was Lilith’s work.” Sam explained gingerly. “Brought back old innocents that hunters couldn’t fight. Made your run-of-the-mill vengeful spirits look like Casper the friendly ghost.”

“Shit.” Jo muttered.

“Yea, but that ain’t everything.” Dean murmured.

Jo raised an eyebrow curiously. “This the part we gotta save for later?”

“It would be wise.” Cas murmured. Dean turned to stare at his match.  

Castiel’s gaze never lingered on one table for too long, and he was picking at the wrapper around his beer bottle while his leg bounced against the bar stool. Something—or someone here was making him twitch. And it wasn’t a ‘Castiel-gets-uncomfortable-in-crowded-rooms’ twitch. This was a hunter on guard twitch.

Dean blinked slowly as the small pit in his stomach became a heavy rock. The feeling wavered through the weakened bond between them, and Dean felt stupid for not sensing it earlier. Cas was nervous. Someone in this room was making Cas edgy. That was never good.

Dean shared a quick glance with Jo, some silent understanding passing between them. She took another sip of her beer and plastered on the biggest shit-eating-grin Dean had ever seen. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, laughing as if they were all flirting with her.

“Well, then you boys make yourself comfortable. Your dinner should be out soon, and next rounds on me ‘kay?” She added, sugar sweet while she went to bus a few tables.

“Cas?” Dean asked gently, pressing his elbow along Cas’ arm on the counter.  The contact, despite the four and a half layers, made Dean’s skin warm, and the pit shrunk a fifth of a size in his stomach. The hunter finally looked over, bright blue eyes worried and alert.

“I’m fine.” Cas promised.

“You look like you’re gonna jump somebody.” Dean protested.

“Maybe later.” Cas admitted. Dean was about to ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, when someone called out behind them.

“Cas! Sam, and Dean! _Mis amigos_!”

Sam’s lips twitched in a smile, Dean chuckled at the Spanish greeting, and even Castiel seemed to lighten up as Ash sauntered over to the bar. There was a happy grin on his face as he walked around the counter, clamping a hand on Sam and Dean’s shoulders.

“Good to see you living and breathing again man.” Ash said.

“Likewise,” Dean agreed, laughing softly. “How you been buddy?”

“Living the life brother, living the life. Got your orders grilling in the back as we speak, and I’m gonna add an order of curly fries! As a homecoming treat!” Ash added.

“Thanks Ash.” Dean smirked.

“ _No problemo_! Oh, Cas, I need your help with something out back.” Ash added with a small jab of his thumb over his shoulder. “You got a sec right?”

Dean frowned slightly at that, but Cas just nodded as though it was nothing out of the ordinary. He stepped down from his stool and followed Ash around the bar and into the back kitchen while Sam went to find a better song to play on the jukebox. Dean watched him leave as he chewed his lips gently.

Jo wandered back to the bar with a bucket of dirty glasses on her hip. “Need another yet?” Jo wondered.

“Nah, I’m good for now.” Dean murmured. His beer was still half full, and it was his first. Sam had downed two already, and Dean was pretty sure Cas had just finished his second one as well. Dean watched as Jo cleared the empty bottles away, and set to cleaning the shot glasses.

“You said Cas has been coming here every week?” Dean wondered.

“Just about,” Jo nodded. “Ever since Sammy ditched town after you’d…ya know. He and Ash get along real well. Cas used to blow in here few times back when he rode with Balthazar. Ash helped them on a few cases now and then.” Jo explained. “Cas would come in, order a few beers, talk about cases with Ash. There were even a few hunters he helped back in July with some weird thing.” Dean listened, nodding to show he understood while he sipped his beer.

“I’m glad you’re back, Dean,” Jo said, her smile warm and gentle, and her eyes were a bit glossy when Dean caught her gaze again. “Things weren’t the same without you.”

“Yea, I’m starting to get that.” Dean murmured. He was saved from explaining himself as Sam sat back down. Some Aerosmith song was playing from the jukebox now, and Jo smirked at the tunes.

“All right, I get my break in five minutes. Go snag that empty pool table. I bet your rusty as shit.” Jo teased, nodding her head towards the back of the Roadhouse. Dean grinned at the thought, glancing at Sam who had a wicked smirk on his face.

“She’s gonna kick your ass.” Sam bet, watching as Jo hurried to finish cleaning the glasses.

“Not a fucking chance.” Dean protested, tossing off his jacket as he walked towards the pool table.

 

 

**************

 

 

Ash was still talking as he led Castiel through the swinging kitchen doors and around the steel appliances. “You never mentioned Dean was back.” Ash accused gently, and Castiel could only shrug.

“It’s been a hectic week.” Castiel murmured as Ash turned near the large refrigerator and through another set of doors. In this room there were three computer screens tucked into one corner with two tables littered with keyboards, papers, magazines, and plates of food that looked over two days old.

“So, I knew that running a background check on a hunter was gonna give me some uh, interesting stuff.” Ash murmured. “You told me about that stunt in Tallahassee, but did you see the reports after your case in Milwaukee? Or Balthy’s six arrest warrants, plus the kidnapping charges from saving you from Pontiac? Or the fact that the FBI knows six out of your ten aliases? Dean’s too—”

“What?” Castiel asked, snatching the file that Ash held out to him.

“Oh yea. They tell you about their case in Talladega?” Ash asked. “Heavy shit man, heavy shit.”

“The shifter case.” Castiel distantly remembered. “They gave me a rough summary.” He added while he flipped through the FBI files in his hands.

There were several pages dedicated to Balthazar’s charges across the states—grave robbery and desecration, armed robbery, murder, and two cases of arson, which made Castiel chuckle despite the weight of the chargers. Only two counts of arson? The FBI clearly weren’t as thorough in their research as Castiel had originally thought. Castiel flipped the page to find his own FBI file, with only a blurry picture of his profile from an ATM camera. He had charges under three different names across Georgia, Louisiana and Texas ranging from robbery to murder and arson same as Balthazar.

The last two pages were on Sam and Dean, exclusively about the shifter case in Talladega, where Dean was charged with murdering an officer, kidnapping and assaulting a school teacher, and two other possible murders in the area with Sam as an accomplice. The Feds had a picture from a traffic-light of the car, but it was blurry and the license plate was unreadable. Despite being over a year old, the case was still open.

“You wanna tell me about what happened in Houston?” Ash asked gently.

Castiel raised his gaze to see that Ash was holding up another file, just as thick as the one he held in his hands. Castiel glared at the folder, then at Ash. “Burn that.” Castiel forced the words out despite the taste of smoke on his tongue and the phantom pain creeping up his leg.

“I can burn everything.” Ash offered, tossing the file onto his desk. “It’ll take me a few hours, but I could wipe the databases. They’ll have any and all hard copies though.” Castiel nodded as he handed back the file like it wasn’t the most incriminating evidence against him, Dean and Sam.

“This is probably what you were looking for when you called.” Ash sighed, passing over a single sheet of paper.

Castiel frowned, because truly, he hadn’t expected anything serious out of Ash’s search. The paper in his hands looked like a form, and it took Castiel a few seconds to realize what it was.

Adoption papers.  These were _his_ adoption papers, from an orphanage in Cornell, Illinois. They bore the signatures of his parents, and one other witness—a Jeremiah Gracelin—plus Castiel’s name and date of the adoption; August 20th 1977. Castiel stared at the lines, watching the words spin on the paper. ‘Adoption’ rang over and over again in his mind.

Aniel’s words came back to him; _Your sister had a twin_. Anna had been the only one in their family with bright red hair. Castiel had been the only one with bright blues eyes. Castiel had never thought anything of it. He never had the time with his family to think otherwise. Maybe Ash was right, maybe this was what Castiel had been looking for in the first place. He just hadn’t thought that far.

“This was the only thing you found?” Castiel asked tightly.

“Found one for your sister too.” Ash admitted. “Anna Novak was adopted in April of ’74 from a hospital in Lincoln, Illinois. Her twin was sick at birth and the hospital wouldn’t release her for adoption right away. So Kimberly Milton went to a family in Oklahoma over a month later. She grew up normal, attended state university, got married and even had a kid. She also went missing about a week ago.”

Ash handed over another paper. It was the missing person’s file, and Castiel felt a weight sink to his stomach. That was Aniel. Or, the woman that Aniel was currently harboring as a vessel. The husband had called her missing the day after he and Dean had tried the summoning ritual in Pontiac. The poor man.

“Nothing else?” Castiel wondered, holding the pages tightly in his hands.

“Nope. Shelter burned down three years after you were adopted.” Ash explained. “Couldn’t find any other records. Not your birth certificate or hospital forms. Hell, not anything until the new-reports of your parents’ death in ‘89. After that there’s the shit ton of FBI and Police Reports once you and Balthazar started catching on the radar from your hunts. You sure you don’t wanna talk ‘bout Houston? Cause man that file—”

“Ash.” Castiel ground his teeth, and thankfully the man took the hint. He raised his hands slowly in defeat. “Will you clear the system?” Castiel asked carefully.

“Yea man,” Ash agreed. “I know you ain’t really some murderous fire-loving freak, you’re just tryin’ to keep the peace.” Ash said, pressing his hands together gently with a small bow.

“Thank you Ash, I appreciate it.” Castiel murmured with a tight sigh, tucking the papers away into his jacket as he left the room. 

Ash followed him out a minute later with four baskets on the large serving tray, so Castiel led the way towards the back of the saloon. Dean and Jo were circling a pool table while Sam sat at a small table, another beer in his hands, laughing at whatever taunts Jo shouted after sinking another ball in a corner pocket. Sam sat up straighter when Ash swung around with the platter of food, and the smell of burgers must have caught Dean’s attention.

“Damn it!” Dean scowled as he missed his shot.

“Ha, looks like Cas is my good luck charm tonight.” Jo taunted.

“If only that were true,” Castiel teased as he sat down across from Sam and took his dinner basket from Ash.

Sam tossed him a small smile before digging into his food. Castiel ate quietly, his attention flickering between Dean and Jo walking around the table like sharks, and occasionally glancing around the Roadhouse again. A few more people had wandered into the bar within the last ten minutes, but it was no one that Castiel recognized.

“Cas? You okay?” Sam wondered. His voice cut through Castiel’s thoughts, drawing his attention back to their table, and their dinners. “Haven’t seen you this tense in a while. What’s up?”

Cas swallowed the last bit of his burger with a mouthful of beer rather than answering Sam right away. Sam munched on a few curly fries and waited patiently, watching Castiel with wide eyes. Jo laughed as Dean swore while the pool balls clinked and clattered together around the long table. Cas found himself smiling gently, setting his beer down on the table.

“Cas?” Sam tried again, and Castiel turned his gentle smile to him.

“I’m fine Sam.” Castiel told him, reaching for a few curly fries.

“Yea. Okay.” Sam muttered, but Castiel knew the younger Winchester was far from convinced. “What did Ash want? I doubt he needed your help to flip a few patties.”

Castiel smirked at the thought. Sam knew he was terrible with a spatula. He swallowed his mouthful of fries with a swig of beer before reaching into his coat for the folded piece of paper. He stared at it for a few seconds, then wordlessly handed it across the table to Sam.

“The first time I meant Aniel, when Dean and I summoned her in Pontiac, she told me something.” Castiel started to explain while Sam stared, wide-eyed at the folded paper. “She said she was possessing a woman named Kim. Apparently Angels need a vessel when walking the earth, but they need the permission of the human.”

“Okay. What’s this got to do with adoption papers?” Sam wondered, frowning as he stared at the black ink on the page. Castiel waited, watching as Sam’s eyes skimmed around the paperwork. “Wait, these are _your_ adoption papers? You were adopted?”

“As was my sister, Anna.” Castiel agreed. “She had a twin. You met her two hours ago.”

“Hold on, you’re saying the woman that Aniel is possessing is actually your…sister?” Sam asked, his jaw falling open slightly.

Castiel swallowed another drink of his beer, effectively finishing the bottle as he sat back in his chair. His gaze fell to the table as he took a deep breath, eventually shaking his head gently.

“Apparently, not biologically,” Castiel said with a nod towards the papers. “But yes, she reminds me of Anna.”

“I’m sure the name doesn’t help any.” Sam murmured, setting the paper down near Castiel’s near-empty dinner basket. “Cas, I’m sorry. I can’t imagine—”

“It doesn’t matter.” Castiel spoke with more confidence then he felt. “My parents raised me, adoption or not. They were my family.” Castiel finished, just as Dean let out a howl of disappointment, and Jo laughed in triumph. Castiel glanced over in time to see Dean tossing down his pool stick onto the table, and stalking over to their table with Jo dancing behind him. 

“Told you.” Sam teased.

“Shut up. Cas, you got winner.” Dean declared, patting Castiel’s shoulder. He pulled over another tall chair, tossing his jacket over the back of it before reaching for his dinner. He frowned at the paper on the table, raising an eyebrow at Castiel before picking the sheet up to read it.

“You were adopted?” Dean wondered.

“Sam can fill you in,” Castiel sighed, shrugging off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves as he joined Jo at the table. She was racking up the pool balls for another game, and smirking up at Castiel.

“Dean’s always the sour loser. I stopped taking it personally years ago.” Jo said, smiling when Cas took up the pool stick his match had tossed onto the table. “So, we playing for shots this time or just another round of beer?” Jo wondered playfully as Castiel chalked up the end of his pool stick.

Castiel felt his mouth twitch into a smile as Jo leaned over the edge of the table to break. “Shots. If you think you can beat me tonight.” Castiel wagered, watching the colorful balls scatter across the table.

Jo grinned as a few solid colored balls fell into the far corner pockets. That made Castiel stripes. She straightened with a nod. “You’re on Novak.”

Castiel leaned over the side of the table, holding the cue stick effortlessly in his left hand, posing the end between his fingers as he lined up his shot. The ten ball rolled effortlessly into a corner pocket, the cue ball bounced off the edge, knocking into a small cluster. Castiel took a deep breath as he leaned over the table, aiming carefully for this second shot. He glanced up at the brothers, glad to see they were laughing about something while they ate.

“What was that paper you handed Sam?” Jo wondered curiously as Castiel scratched his second shot.

“My adoption papers that Ash found.” Castiel murmured, standing back to give Jo the space she needed for her turn.

Jo glanced up from lining her shot with a raised eyebrow. “You were adopted?”

Castiel shrugged. “I was hardly a month old when it happened.”

“So, you’re okay with it?” Jo asked, sinking the three and six ball. Castiel eyed the table carefully while Jo circled the edge for her next shot.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Castiel asked as Jo missed the five ball by a few inches, lining the cue ball perfectly for Castiel to sink the nine and fourteen. He managed to sink the eleven too by mere luck.

“I dunno,” Jo shrugged. “You’re not curious about your real parents? Why they gave you up or anything like that?”

Castiel took a deep breath as he eyed the last three balls he had on the table. The crack of the cue ball was an answer to Jo’s question. It ricocheted across the table roughly, knocking into a few of Jo’s but sinking two Castiel needed. All that was left was the thirteen and eight ball.

“No, my parents loved me—adopted or not, and they were killed. I wouldn’t dare disgrace their memory by believing they weren’t my real parents.” Castiel answered quietly as he walked around the table for his next shot. The thirteen sunk easily while Jo swore. Castiel kept the smirk on his face as he rounded the corner, eyeing the table carefully. He barely leaned against the edge, his back to the brothers as he lined the cue ball with the black eight-ball down the table.

“Right corner pocket.” Castiel called before striking the cue ball. It bounced against the eight ball, sending it spinning towards the edge of the table, sinking it flawlessly.

Jo’s jaw dropped as Dean cheered behind her, clapping and laughing. Castiel smirked at his match who winked at him with a lift of his beer. The warmth of that wink and smile from his match sunk into Castiel’s chest, spreading to his arms and back again. It was a pleasant feeling, one Castiel hard nearly forgotten in the past six months.

This was better than Castiel’s usual Friday night endeavors. Those started here at the Roadhouse, and ended with him slumped over a tome in the back of Bobby’s basement, or so drunk that Jo had to drive him home at the end of the night. But tonight, that wasn’t the case. He felt warm from the few beers and the soothing atmosphere of the Roadhouse, from Jo’s laughter and Dean’s smile. Sam was holding his face in his hands like Castiel’s winning was embarrassing, but Dean was still grinning from ear to ear.

“I believe you owe Sam a shot as well as me.” Castiel told Jo as he wandered back to the table.

 “They took up the wager too?” Jo figured as Dean laughed.

“We are talking about the Winchesters are we not?” Castiel wondered fondly as he sat back down in his chair.

“Good point.” Jo sighed. “All right, round of shots on the house, coming right up!” Jo called, taking away their dinner baskets as she walked back towards the bar.

“So Aniel’s possessing your adopted sister’s twin?” Dean asked, casually, as if he were asking Castiel for the time of day.

“It would appear so.” Castiel muttered.

“Think we should tell her husband?” Dean asked. “I mean, the poor bastard has to be worried sick about his match.”

“What are we supposed to tell him Dean?” Sam asked. “He’s not going to believe she’s been taken by an Angel.”

“Sam’s right,” Castiel sighed when he saw Dean open his mouth to protest. “As much as it pains me, the less the family truly knows, the better of they are.”

“What I don’t get is how this is all that Ash found?” Sam wondered, tapping the page gently. “Shouldn’t there be more? I don’t know like hospital records, a birth certificate, social records…something about your birth parents. Or at least, whoever this Jeremiah Gracelin is, but there was nothing else?”

Castiel shook his head gently, crossing his arms over the table. “This was it. Well, this and my federal records.” Castiel answered.

“Federal records?” Dean echoed. Castiel smirked lightly.

“I’m a hunter Dean.” Castiel reminded him. “Do you really believe you and Sam are the only ones to be noticed by law enforcement? You knew Balthazar, but not in his early years of hunting.”

Dean thought about that for a second, then nodded as he tipped back his beer. “Touché.”

“You think make this Gracelin guy could be your father?” Sam wondered.

“I don’t know.” Castiel answered honestly. “But, I’m not worried about it.” He added, staring at Sam for a long moment, then Dean. They both gave him a timid smile and a soft nod, the underlining message silent but understood. They were his family now, and nothing was going to change that.

They stayed until closing time, and helped Jo clean up the saloon. Sam swept, Castiel wiped down a few of the tables and turned the chairs up while Dean helped Jo with the dishes behind the bar. Jo waved as the last straggler stumbled through the doors before she huffed in relief.

“I appreciate you boys staying to help me tidy up and all,” Jo started. “But ya’ll ain’t getting out of telling me what’s been going on for the past week.” She stared pointedly at Dean, then Castiel, and finally Sam, all while stacking clean shot glasses next to the whiskey.

Castiel tossed his dish towel rag onto the bar, sitting heavily on a stool. “It’s the Apocalypse.”

Dean winced as he handed Jo another dry glass. “Damn babe, don’t sugar coat it or anything.” Dean murmured, to which Cas gave a half-shrug. Jo didn’t take the glass Dean was holding out for her. Her hands were frozen around the towel in her hand.

“Shut the fuck up.” Jo ordered.

“It’s true.” Sam offered, walking back to the bar with the broom in tow. “The Rising of the Witnesses wasn’t just a spell. Lilith broke a seal that night.”

“A Seal? A seal for what?” Jo asked. Her eyes were wide, if still a bit skeptical as she glanced between the boys resting against the counter.

“A seal is more like a lock,” Dean offered. “Locks that are on the devil’s cage. Lilith is the only demon that can snap them loose.”

“To free the devil.” Jo figured, almost automatically. She blinked. “To free the devil—to seriously free the fucking devil!? Are you fucking kidding me?” Jo asked, slamming down the glass with the rest and snapping her dishtowel at Dean.

“Ow! What was that for?!” Dean gasped, rubbing his arm.

“You start hunting and now we got the God-damn Apocalypse on our hands?!” Jo practically shouted.

Dean glanced at his brother, and Castiel, obviously in need of assistance since he was the only one standing on the opposite side of the bar with Jo. And within punching range.

“And you didn’t want to wait until closing to tell her,” Castiel muttered with a pointed glance at his match. “Jo, it’s not Judgment day yet. We have a chance to stop it.”

“How?” Jo asked, turning sharp eyes on him.

Castiel smirked. “We have an Angel up our sleeve.”

“Don’t you mean Ace?” Sam wondered, to which Castiel rolled his eyes.

“Actually it’s kinda both—” Dean offered, but Jo huffed a breath in frustration.

“I don’t care what it is, how is it helpful?” Jo asked.

“I was being serious.” Castiel told her. “We have an Angel on our side, Aniel.”

“The Angel who pulled Dean out right?” Jo asked, pointing a finger gently at the man beside her.

“Yes,” Castiel nodded. “She’s told us when the next seal is going to be broken. We’ll be able to stop it, and hopefully, we’ll be able to get a lead on Lilith to bring this whole start of the Apocalypse to an end.”

Jo listened, but she was standing with her shoulder tense and her hands clenched into fists at her side, like she was ready for a fight any second. She took two steps and braced her hands against the counter to stare at Castiel. For ten seconds, Jo didn’t blink, but then she took a breath and a timid smirk pulled at her lips

“Help an Angel save a seal and keep the devil trapped up for a few more millennia?” Jo wondered. Castiel narrowed his eyes, but he nodded slowly. “I’m in.”


	7. Lost My Faith

**_~*~ 3 weeks later ~*~_ **

 

 

“SAM! SAMMY, COME ON!” Dean shouted as he ran up the steps of the old cemetery mausoleum. There was a fire blazing behind him that he was trying not to focus on as he stormed through the hallways. Cas had decided it was best to torch the whole damn place, and Jo went crazy with the lighter fluid. They had battled against zombies and ghosts and something that was damn near the angriest poltergeist Dean had ever seen in his life. This fucking Samhain wasn’t a joke. And they’d fucked it up royally. Dean was going to kick Sam’s ass for ever doubting him. Teenaged babysitter be damned.

“ _SAM_!” Dean bellowed as he hit the top of the stairs. He turned a corner, shoulder slamming into a wall as his boots lost traction along the tile. Dean froze when his eyes fell on the room at the end of the hallway.

There was his brother, standing a few steps away from the doorway. And there was the fucking demon—Samhain, kneeling along what looked like a marble alter or something. Dean frowned. This wasn’t right. The demon wasn’t moving. Why wasn’t he moving? Why was Sam just standing there?

Dean blinked as details came into focus. Samhain’s jaw was open wide, and what Dean thought was a shadow was actually smoke billowing out from his mouth. The demon’s face was struck wide in fear or pain, Dean didn’t know, but the smoke kept pouring from him in spouts like a clogged faucet.

Sam wasn’t just standing still either, Dean realized with another blink. His brother had one hand reach out at the demon, as if he were grabbing at the smoke. Dean watched as Sam’s hand clenched into a fist, and Samhain flinched like that fist struck him in the gut. More smoke poured out of his mouth and it burned into the ground, singeing the tile as the old professor’s body dropped limp—dead—onto the grayed marble.

The demon was dead. Exorcised. Sam had just exorcised the demon. But he did it without any chanting, without any holy water, without a devil’s traps even.

Dean staggered back as Sam turned. He was dazed, blood dripping down his nose as his shoulder rose and fell with his labored breaths. His eyes caught sight of Dean, and panic flashed across his face. Dean swallowed tightly, eyes darting from the dead body at Sam’s feet, to his brother. Sam shuddered as he walked forward, pressing a hand to his nose to wipe away the blood.

“DEAN!” Jo called from the bottom of the stairs, and it snapped Dean to move. He reached forward the three extra steps that Sam hadn’t taken. With one hand fisted in his brother’s shirt, Dean dragged them through the burning fire and out of the mausoleum. Jo slammed the doors behind them. Cas had the Impala waiting at the cemetery gate, and they left with the smell of smoke and blood clinging to their coats.

 

 

**_~~Eight Days Earlier~~_ **

 

“Hey! I think I found us a case!” Sam practically bounced into the kitchen.

Dean groaned around the warm cup of coffee in his hands. It was too early for this shit. And how the hell was Sam so wide awake and chipper this early? It wasn’t even eight am yet.

Cas hadn’t come down from the bedroom, and honestly Dean doubted he’d wake up until noon. Once again, he’d been up all night, doing research on the fucking seals. Just like he did every night since Aniel recruited them into the Angel Army.

Dean had thrown himself back into work, and Bobby was happy that the auto-shop was able to start functioning again. They needed the extra funds.

“You know we can’t go anywhere.” Dean grumbled.

“Dude, Aniel is an Angel,” Sam reminded him with a smirk. “I’m pretty sure she can find us if we’re off on a hunt. Besides, this is definitely up our alley.”

“Why are you so happy about this?” Dean asked after a sip of his coffee.

“We haven’t been on a case all month.” Sam reasoned. “How are you not getting cabin fever?”

“I’ve been working.” Dean reminded him. “Ya know, at the shop, where my real job is.”

“Right, because fixing cars is more important than saving people’s lives?” Sam asked. The light tone was gone from his voice, and when Dean looked up there was a bitch-face to match all of Sam’s bitch-faces. He sighed deeply and snatched the papers from his brother to read over the article. Before Dean could even get through the first paragraph, Sam was leaning across the table and explaining details.

“So this guy reaches into the bucket of Halloween candy his wife brings home,” Sam said. “And he only eats one piece. But somehow he starts puking up razors until he chokes to death. The coroner’s report says two were lodged in his throat, one in his mouth, and six others were found in his stomach.”

“From Halloween candy? Is nothing sacred these days?” Dean muttered, frowning at the article as he skimmed it. Yea, this was definitely weird.  The piece of candy had been the size of a gumdrop. There was no way it was hiding nine razor blades without the poor guy knowing. “What are you thinking?”

“Sounds kinda witchy.” Sam offered with a half shrug.

“Yea, and it’s about that time of year.” Dean reasoned with a nod. “Think we can handle this on our own or do I have to wake the Misses?” Dean muttered with a side-glance at the ceiling. Sam pursed his lips as Dean pushed aside the papers to take up his mug of coffee again.

“What is it with you two?” Sam wondered. “I mean, ever since Aniel showed up, things seem a bit tense.”

“I guess that’s what happens when a hunter meets a case he hasn’t even seen yet.” Dean offered with a tired shrug. “Aniel only told us to wait for three weeks. Nothing else. It’s been driving him nuts. Every night he’s up until two in the fucking morning looking up these seals. I think he’s at like four hundred and nowhere near slimming that down to whatever Lilith might go after. It’s gonna drive him insane.” Dean waved at the living room where the usual mess of notepads, tomes, books, scrolls and newspapers were littered across the couch, the coffee table, Bobby’s desk and the floor in between.

“Dean, not for nothing, but I’ve seen Cas focused on a case. That’s not what this is,” Sam told him, catching his brother’s attention again. “So seriously, what’s going on with you two?”

“Seriously, Sam, I got nothing.” Dean muttered into his coffee mug. He swallowed the lie down with a healthy sip of hot coffee before Sam could question him again. He reached forward, turning the article over to read it through one more time. “Ya know what, I’m gonna wake his ass up while you get the car ready. He could use the fresh air.”

Dean stood from the table, mug in hand, but Sam heard the ceramic crashing to the floor before he caught the sight of gray coat and red hair.

“Hello Dean, Sam. I have news—oh.” Aniel’s gaze fell to the kitchen floor where Dean’s mug was now in shattered pieces. The thick black coffee covered the tips of her boots and was starting to spread across the tiles. “My apologies.” She waved her hand and the mug reappeared, completely in tack, steaming hot coffee included, and she handed it back to Dean with a timid smile.

“We have managed to locate where Lilith plans to break her next seal. It—what is this?” Aniel asked as Dean turned over the news report Sam gave him.

“A case. Where innocent people are dying.” Dean explained. “Something we hunters take personally.” He added with a pointed look at Sam. He stepped aside, realizing then that Aniel was standing ridiculously close to him, even as she peered at the paper in her hands.

“This is exactly it.” Aniel said, looking up from the article to glance between the brothers. “This attack, it was the first. Lilith has already started.”

“Wait, you’re saying this hunt is actually a seal?” Sam asked with wide eyes.

“Fuck.” Dean let out a heavy breath. “I’ll wake Cas. Sam, call Jo. She’ll be pissed if we leave her out of this and I’m so not in the mood for another show-down.” He added before shouldering past the Angel in the room and stalking towards the stairway.

Aniel followed his progression to the second floor with narrowed eyes. “He appears to be upset.” Aniel noted, her amber gaze shifting down to Sam. “Did I interrupt something?” She asked.

“Not exactly.” Sam murmured, swallowing roughly as the Angel continued to stare at him. He fished his phone from his pocket and held it up for Aniel to see. “I need to make a call. We’re on the case though. We’ll shout out if we need help.”

Aniel straightened as if remembering that she was an Angel, and Sam was a mortal. Her expression became blank again and she squared her shoulders. “Very well.” Then she was gone.

 

 

**_~~Two Days Earlier~~_ **

 

“I’m telling you it’s the baby-sitter.” Dean muttered as he walked away from the Impala towards their motel room door. He reached into his pocket, tucking away the car keys in favor of the room keys.

“But what would she gain by murdering her customer?” Castiel asked, just a step behind him, echoed by the sound of the Impala door slamming shut.

“Or a friend for that matter?” Jo added. She crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned against the wall space between their room doors. “Those didn’t seem like crocodile tears to me Dean.”

Jo had snuck out of her shift at the Roadhouse to come with them on the case. Dean was only slightly disturbed by the fact that Jo already had a bag packed—clothes and weapons—tucked away under the bar like an extra case of beer. They’d driven all day, and checked into their motel two days ago. Jo and Sam had a separate room, not at all minding that they shared. It meant they didn’t have to deal with whatever tension was brewing between Dean and Castiel.

Jo and Dean had gone to the first victim’s house to speak to the wife, who seemed extremely ordinary and stricken with grief when Jo brought up the notion of her husband having enemies.

“He was a sweetheart.” The wife had said. “Kind of a teddy bear when we were dating in high school. It’s the reason we fell in love.” Then the tears started, and Jo was left to console the poor widow while Dean took a look around the kitchen. Despite the normal wife and the sweetheart of a husband, Dean had found a hex bag tucked into the cabinet where the wife had stored the Halloween candy.

Cas stayed behind, looking through his notes for any indication of what seal Lilith had her demons going after in this town, while Sam had talked with the local LEO’s, wondering if this was the only strange death in the past few weeks. When they met up again at the end of the day with nothing but a hex bag, Sam got a call for another strange death. This time, at a high school Halloween party; a girl had drowned while bobbing for apples, her skin blistered like the water had boiled her alive.

Dean was the one to notice the “best” friend of Vic #2 was also the babysitter for Vic #1. Sam had found a second hex bag tucked into a sofa cushion not two feet away from the tub of apples. From what the witnesses’ had told Jo about the accident, they were definitely dealing with a witch. Water in a tub didn’t just start boiling out of nowhere. Cas had poked through the ingredients of the hex bag on the drive back to the motel, a hard frown on his face.

“These aren’t normal ingredients for a hex bag,” Cas declared. “Sam, was the other one like this?” He wondered, passing the opened cloth over gingerly while Dean tried to wriggle their door open.

 “Yea, I think so.” Sam nodded gently. “So, we have extra weird, extra powerful hex bags, but Dean thinks it’s a teenager stringing this together?”

“Witches Sam.” Dean said, as if that was answer. He leaned into the door roughly and it finally gave away under his shoulder. Castiel stepped in ahead of him, but he was stopped short by the figure standing across the room in front of the window.

“Who are you?” Castiel barked, making Sam and Jo jump. Dean already had his gun out, pointing at the man who didn’t give them so much as a glance.

“Dean, put down your weapon.” Aniel ordered as she stepped away from their bathroom doorway. Dean blinked at the Angel’s voice. She hadn’t been there a second ago.

Castiel glanced between Dean and the Angel with a soft nod. Dean swore under his breath as he lowered his gun, but kept it clutched tight in his hands. Sam stepped into the room, followed closely by Jo, who was frowning between Aniel and the man at the window.

“This is my lieutenant, Uriel,” Aniel explained, obviously sensing their confusion. “He’s a specialist, as you would call it.”

“Um, who’s this?” Jo wondered quietly.

“That’s Aniel.” Sam answered softly with a gentle nod towards the redhead.

“The Angel?” Jo’s eyes grew wide, and she held back a quiet gasp as Aniel turned her attention to the huntress.

“Joanna Beth Harvelle…” Aniel tilted her head as he brow knitted slightly. Sam was beginning to wonder if that head-tilt was some unique Angel greeting rather than just a general look of befuddlement. Aniel had that expression almost every time he’d seen her. And now that look was zeroed in on Jo, like the blonde was a puzzle piece that Aniel couldn’t quite fit into the bigger picture.

“How do you know my name?” Jo asked, her voice light in disbelief. Aniel didn’t answer her though. The Angel merely blinked, breaking the eye-contact Jo held in favor of walking over to the single bed in the room. There were two hex bags resting on the pillows.

“These were left for you all.” Aniel explained as she turned the hex bags over in her fingers. “We found them between the walls of your rooms. The witch knows that you’re on their trail. You need to find them—”

“Hold the fuck up—” Dean managed to find his voice. He tucked his gun back behind his FBI-suit jacket and quickly held up his hands in a ‘T’. Jo was actually surprised that Aniel shut her mouth with a tiny snap, but she didn’t miss the glare in the Angel’s eyes. “You said this was a seal thing, but this is starting to look more and more like a witch hunt. Why the hell do Angels need hunters to take out a witch?”

“Enough of this.” Uriel growled from the window. He finally turned to face them with a disapproving snicker. Sam felt Castiel twitch beside him, staring hard at Uriel, as if he recognized the man’s dark scowl, but couldn’t place it in his memory.

The man was dressed in an all black business suit, and Sam wondered if he’d left church when the Angel Uriel had taken him. Cas had explained that Angels needed the consent of certain humans in order to inhabit their bodies. It wouldn’t surprise Sam if these vessels were once extremely devoted worshipers of Christianity. Uriel shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked around the beds.

“We have work to do.” He said. “You all need to leave this city. Immediately.”

“Why?” Sam asked, glancing between the Angels.

“Because, we are going to eradicate this infestation before it can fester.” Uriel said. His lip curled into a pleased snicker.

“What?” The brothers demanded.

“Eradicate?” Jo asked, while Castiel sucked in a sharp breath.

“We can’t locate the witch.” Aniel answered, and Jo could swear the Angel nearly rolled her eyes. Never in her wildest dreams would Jo think she could stand in a room with two Angels. Or that one of them had just rolled her eyes in frustration. “They found some way to conceal themselves from us. However we can’t allow for their work to be a success. These past two killings are the prerequisites for a seal—the Rising of Samhain.”

“What is it with these seals and rising?” Jo muttered under her breath.

“What are you going to do?” Castiel asked. Sam shifted slightly next to Jo. She could see him frowning and she couldn’t blame him. Castiel’s voice had grown rough; the kind of rough that usually told Jo he’d had too much whiskey and needed to get home before he picked a fight. As it was, Cas was already locked in some weird staring contest with Uriel now, and Jo wondered if he saw something the brothers missed.

“Wipe the slate clean of course.” Uriel answered. The Angel smiled as if it was an easy answer, but Sam actually stumbled back like he was knocked in the stomach.

“Wipe the slate clean?” Sam echoed. “What, you’re gonna blow the city off the map? You’re Angels! You should want to save these people not murder them!”

“There’s gotta be at least a thousand people here!” Jo added, waving her hand towards the bedroom door and the rest of the city behind her.

“There are over 1,200 people in this city.” Uriel snapped, his disapproving grimace finally acknowledging Sam and Jo. “Compared to the six _billion_ souls across the globe, it is a small sacrifice to save the seal and prevent the rise of Lucifer. So, you need to leave, and let us do our job.”

“Yea, that’s not gonna happen.” Jo said, shaking her head roughly.

“We are not left with many options.” Aniel stated, her eyes locking with Jo’s. She tried not to shiver under the scrutiny. The Angel’s amber eyes looked like liquid gold, and it sent something warm trickling down Jo’s spine. For a few seconds, Jo nearly forgot that she was supposed to be angry that 1,200 people could be killed in an instant. “If Samhain is set loose he will not only destroy this town, but this entire country. By removing the threat of this city entirely it insures the safety of the world—”

“No.” Dean ground out, as he stepped closer to Uriel, a stubborn scowl on his face. “We’re not going anywhere. We’re going to stop this witch, keep the seal from breaking, and save this whole damn town. You can either do the right thing and _help us_ —” Dean emphasized. He nodded back at Castiel while waving a hand towards Sam and Jo without breaking his gaze from Uriel. “Or you can flap your sorry little ass back to Heaven. You were the ones who wanted our help with this shit. And you guys are the ones who yanked me from Hell. So I’m willing to bet that so long as I’m here, this city is safe. Because if you plan on nuking this town, you’ll have to nuke me along with it.”

Uriel’s jaw rolled as he tried not to smile, but even with a smile his eyes were sharp, his shoulders were tense, and his hands were balled into tight fists at his side. The smile was meaningless. The glare he was giving Dean and Cas made Sam’s stomach turn. The silence that swept the room was thick as Dean dared Uriel to blink first.

“I can see why he likes you,” Uriel muttered. It broke the silence, but didn’t ease the tension. His eyes darted from Dean to Cas with blame, resentment and something that simmered close to hate in his gaze. “Disobedient, insolent, and ungrateful—”

“Uriel, enough.” Aniel snapped, making Jo start softly behind Sam. “We have our orders.” There was a rush of wind, a quiet flap of wings, and then the two Angels were gone.

“Dicks.” Sam breathed, almost silently. Dean turned around with a hard expression on his face, but he nodded in agreement.

“They can’t be serious.” Jo offered.

“Pretty sure they were.” Sam muttered. He stared at the hex bag clenched in his hands, and his lips pursed together as he walked to the table. He smoothed out the cloth and started comparing the ingredients with the first hex bag they’d found.

“They can’t just level a whole city!” Jo protested as she raked her fingers through her hair.

“Hey, that’s not gonna happen.” Dean stated with conviction and confidence on his face as he turned sharply to face Jo. “All we gotta do is stop this bitch of a witch from summoning Samhain and we’re good. My money is still on the baby sitter.”

“These ingredients are way too old Dean.” Sam called from his table.

“What? Like we haven’t crossed an immortal witch before today? Maybe this one is just stuck in tweensville.” Dean suggested with a wave of his hand. He worked to loosen his tie as he stalked back to his bed, only hesitating when he noticed that his match hadn’t moved since the Angels left.

“Cas? You okay?” Dean murmured.

Cas was tense, more so than usual, but Dean’s voice snapped him out of his thoughtful haze. He nodded quickly, but the hard frown was still creasing his brow.

“Samhain,” Cas said softly. “I know that name. It’s a demon.”

“That would explain the witchy business.” Jo said as she shrugged off her tweed black coat. “Aren’t their powers tied to demons anyway?”

“Usually, yes.” Castiel agreed. “Sam, can you identify those ingredients with the books we brought?” Castiel wondered.

Sam shrugged absently. “I’m not really sure,” Sam muttered. “This is obviously some type of bone, these look like dried out flowers, and this looks like some kind of coin, but I can’t make heads…” Sam pulled a face as he stared at the coin in his fingers. “Or tails of it. No pun intended.”

“Library closes in an hour. We can get there in time if we go now.” Jo pointed a thumb over her shoulder. Wordlessly, Dean tossed her the keys.

“Go.” Dean nudged Cas towards the blonde, and they left with a nod.

 

 

\----------------

 

 

“Ha! Yahtzee!”

Sam picked his head up quickly at Dean’s exclamation. He rubbed his eyes roughly. He needed more coffee. They’d been running for nearly twenty-four hours straight, and Sam couldn’t shake the headache that had kicked in once they’d stepped foot  in this town. Dean held up a finger as his eyes skated across the pages in his book.

“Samhain is Scottish!” He proclaimed proudly.

“This helps us how?” Jo wondered sourly. She was stretched out along Dean’s bed with her feet kicked up onto the headboard. There was a book across her lap, and another covering her face. Sam chuckled at her words. Honestly, he thought she had passed out half an hour ago when she put the book over her face to block the motel room lights.

“In Celtic mythology—” Dean reached behind him, smacking the bed near Jo’s head to get her attention. “He is feared as an evil spirit. A Harbinger of death to be exact.”

Jo sucked her teeth from behind her book. “My question still stands.”

“That coin.” Castiel muttered, glancing across the table at Sam.

“It’s Celtic, not Roman.” Sam muttered, pushing aside five books that were now useless. He pulled his computer back into his lap, typing away for Celtic folk-lore.

“Oh here’s something else,” Dean spoke up again. “He could only be raised on the full moon of the final harvest—”

“Who writes these rules?” Jo groaned.

“—AND, on this night, you were expected to guard your home and stay inside.” Dean continued to read. “If you had to venture outside, wearing a mask could—in theory I guess—protect you and prevent him from eating your soul.”

Jo sat up from the bed, the book that had covered her face slipped onto her chest. “Call me crazy, but that sounds like Halloween.”

“A really, really old and still terrifying version of Halloween.” Dean agreed with a solemn nod.

“All traditions, however misconstrued today have their origins in myths and pagan rituals,” Cas spoke as he massaged his temples. “Guarding the house today on All Hallows Eve includes pumpkin Jack-O-Lanterns, skeletons, anything fearful. Wearing costumes now is not too far removed from wearing a mask to hide your identity from a soul-harbingering demon.”

“So this guy is worse than we thought.” Jo murmured as she brushed back her now frizzy blonde hair.

“He sounds like the Original Boogy Man.” Dean agreed as he flipped the page in his book. “Halloween wrapped in a twisted ancient nut-shell. Man, and I was really hoping for some apple cider, pumpkin pie and limitless candy this year.” Dean groaned that last bit as he handed Castiel the book in his hands.

 “So, what? Are we supposed to give him a treat and hope he doesn’t trick us?” Jo wondered, tossing her book into Dean’s lap as she stood from the bed to stretch.

“Oh shit.” Sam muttered. “I…think I just found the summoning spell.”

Dean leapt up from the bed, Jo scrambling behind him as Castiel wrenched the laptop away from Sam’s fingers. Dean couldn’t read the page. It was in a dead language that only demons and witches knew. Castiel was scrolling through it furiously though, his eyes darting across the screen. Apparently, Castiel could also read dead languages assigned in demon and witch school.

“There’s one more blood sacrifice,” Castiel explained. “During the peak of the full moon. This shall be the final—this legitimately says seal—to break Samhain free.”

“Twenty hours,” Jo whispered after a glance at the clock. “That’s plenty of time. How do we stop it?”

“Easy, we stop the sacrifice from happening, Samhain’s never free.” Dean offered.

“Yea, but we still don’t know who sacrificed the last two.” Sam pointed out. “Or where they’re gonna try to sacrifice the third.”

Dean groaned tiredly and rubbed his face. “Five hours, then we’re back on the clock.” He offered.

“Then we kill the Boogy man?” Jo wondered, and Sam glanced over at her with a smirk. She was so tired she sounded like she was ten, her eyes were growing a bit red, and Sam wondered how she was even standing on her own two feet right now. Jo swayed slightly as she yawned. Sam stood in the next second, catching her as Jo staggered dangerously again. Well, that answered that question.

“Yea, then we stop the Boogy man.” Sam murmured with a glance at his brother and Cas, who shrugged tiredly. “Somehow…”

Sam took Jo back to their room, smiling lightly at the fact that she passed out as soon as she hit the pillow. Sam raked his fingers through his hair, the details of Samhain swirling in his mind. Samhain was a demon. Powerful, if the books were trustworthy, but it was still a demon. If they couldn’t stop the spell, Sam knew a way to get rid of the demon before he could cause too much damage. Biting his lip, Sam dug around in his bag. He doubled checked over his shoulder, making sure Jo was snoring soundly as he drew out a single vial.

_Emergencies only, Sam._

The fate of a seal in balance definitely qualified. Sam uncorked the vial and drained the iron-tasting contents dry, sighing in relief as his headache slowly ebbed away.

 

 

**_~*~Present day~*~_ **

 

They’d lost the seal. But at least they managed to kill Samhain and save the town. That was a win in Dean’s eyes. They needed to pack up the rooms and bailthough. The fire in the cemetery wouldn’t go unnoticed even if it was Halloween.

Cas pushed the Impala roughly down the street, curving at the last second to pull into the motel parking lot. The whole ride had been completely silent. Sam sat in the back seat massaging his temples and looking like he was fighting the world’s worst hangover. Jo was next to him, nursing her arm that was twisted by a very pissed off spirit during the rising of the dead in the mausoleum. Dean was rubbing a bruised shoulder blade from where a zombie had chucked him into a stone marble wall. An actual flesh-eating, back-from-the-dead zombie. That had been a fucking first, and the damn thing wouldn’t die unless it was nailed back into its coffin. And Cas was just tense overallas he drove. But, Dean was beginning to remember that it was slightly normal for his match.

Once they were in the room, Cas went straight for their books, tucking away the extra papers and staking them neatly into their bag. Jo didn’t even hesitate to snag the room key from Sam and bee-line it to their shared room next door. Sam didn’t follow her. Instead he walked slowly into the room after Dean.

Dean could tell by the way Sam hesitated to close the door that he was watching as Dean grabbed his bag to pack. The hesitation usually meant there were questions coming. Questions that Dean didn’t want to answer now. 

“You’re not going to say anything?” Sam wondered softly.

“I told you it was the baby sitter.” Dean muttered.

Sam sighed in exasperation. “Dean, that’s not what I meant. I know you saw me.”

Dean could see Sam out of the corner of his eye over his shoulder.  The top of his lip was red but the nose-bleed was over. His face seemed drawn, like he’d just run ten miles. Well, he’d exorcised a demon with his mind. Maybe that was close to the same thing. Dean clenched his jaw as he turned away, picking up his clothes.

“I don’t know what I saw.” Dean said. “The demon’s dead. The seal’s busted. The town’s still here though so can we bail and talk later? Go pack.”

“You exorcised Samhain?” Cas wondered, finally picking his head up from the old books and scattered papers.

“Yea.” Dean murmured. “Something like that.”

The sound of wings fluttered behind Dean. He jumped, spinning sharply on his heels. He expected to see Uriel, coming to gloat about how the puny ungrateful humans fucked up the seal. Thankfully, it was Aniel. She smiled lightly at him and Cas. Dean didn’t miss that she hardly acknowledged Sam.

“If you’re here to bitch about how we lost the seal,” Dean could hear how gruff his voice was with frustration. He didn’t care that the smile wavered from Aniel’s face. “Save your breath. I honestly don’t give a shit. We saved this town. I’ll sleep like a baby tonight. And the sun’ll come out tomorrow Annie.”

He was about to turn around and continue packing his bag when Sam spoke up across the room. “Dean, you’re being an ass.” Sam muttered.

“You can’t talk.” Dean shot back, drawing his gaze from Annie to glare at his brother over her shoulder. The damn idiot was giving him that guilty puppy face. Dean hated that look. Sam had used it on him countless of times to get out of punishments, begging for Dean to stay silent about whatever happened while Bobby was out for the weekend so he wouldn’t be grounded, or if there was ever only enough ice cream for one more bowl, or if he needed a ride to the movies.

“I’m actually here to commend you.” Annie said, forcing the brothers out of their glaring match, and keeping Dean from barking at Sam again.

“Commend us?” Sam wondered quietly. “We lost the seal.”

“Yes.” Annie admitted, once again, only sparing Sam the minutest of glances over her shoulder. “But, our orders were not to protect the seal, nor wipe this city clean. That was only Uriel’s suggestion.”

“Then what were your orders?” Cas asked. Annie seemed to smile, but she glanced around the room carefully.

“I was told to follow your orders Dean,” Annie admitted, and her smile remained proud, if not a tiny bit strained. “Uriel is one of my generals, so regardless of what he says about what must be done, he would never disobey my instructions. And today, my orders were to come from you.”

“Why?” Dean muttered, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could even think to stop them. No fucking way a feathered-all powerful-Angel took orders from him today. “Why _the hell_ would you listen to anything I have to say?” He asked, his voice horse. He didn’t miss that Cas sucked in a quiet breath beside him.

“Orders are orders.” Annie answered, but Dean knew it wasn’t a true answer. “So yes, we may have lost the seal, but as you said, twelve hundred people were saved today. Innocent lives were spared. Mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, friends and families, they will live to see tomorrow because of your actions. I admire that. I believe you made the right choice.”

“Hey, guys are we going or—” Jo toed the door open, her bag clutched tightly in her hand and Sam’s bag thrown over her good shoulder. Sam sucked in a breath, glaring at her, and then Aniel. She bit her lip gently as she waited in the doorway. The Angel didn’t seem to notice that she was there. Neither did Dean for that matter. He seemed too focused on the Angel. And pissed.

Dean’s eyes narrowed and he slowly held up a finger. “This…this was a test.” He said. It wasn’t a question, it was an accusation. “You raise me from Hell, you knock me out cold, you talk to Cas in that weird Angel language like we’re not good enough for it—” He waved between Sam and himself, his voice growing louder with each offense. “You ask for our help but you don’t tell us jack-shit until it’s the final countdown, and it was all a _fucking test_?”

“If it helps you to think of things that way, then yes.” Annie sighed, obviously frustrated with Dean’s anger. “And you passed Dean. You truly are the Righteous Man. You needed to see that for yourself before we could tell you. You chose to stand for humanity in the face of evil, even if that meant losing a seal. You chose to save these people, to fight for them rather than sit by and watch them burn. Can you really not see this in yourself Dean?” Annie wondered, because all the fury had drained out of Dean at her words. She spoke with faith and conviction, each word hitting Dean in a way that he didn’t understand.

No, it was a way he didn’t deserve. Annie was staring at him like he was a hero in the making. And he wasn’t. Not by a long shot. Dean stepped back, trapped between the bed and the Angel. Cas had to snag his arm to keep him standing.

“Righteous Man? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Dean wondered.

“It means you stop it.” Annie said, smiling softly again, like Dean was a child only now learning to walk on his own two feet. Which was ironic, considering Dean felt as though he would fall over from shock and adrenaline drop were it not for his match gripping his arm tightly. 

“Stop what?” Dean wondered, and he caught the tiny flicker of her gaze towards Sam. But then those amber eyes were back on him in a blink and Dean found himself wondering if maybe he’d imagined it. The next blink was involuntary.

Annie was gone with the softest flutter of wings.

“Damn it!” Dean shouted, and he reeled around so quickly he snapped out of Castiel’s hold. “Is that what she told you?” Dean asked, glaring at Cas. “I’m the Righteous Man? What the fuck does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” Cas told him, shaking his head softly, trying to calm Dean with a hand on his shoulder. “But yes, that is what she’s always told me. I had no way of explaining it to you. I didn’t know what it meant.”

Dean bristled. His skin felt tight and hot. He itched in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was angry, but he was also confused, frustrated, and he really wanted to hit something. Dean rolled his shoulder, getting out from under Cas’ hand to shove the rest of his clothes into his duffle bag.

“Getting really tired of this shit.” Dean muttered under his breath. “You and Annie keep your Angel secrets. You and your fucking demon powers—” He snapped at Sam as he zipped his bag and tossed it over his shoulder.

“What?” Jo practically hissed under her breath, glaring at Sam, who flinched as soon as Jo spoke. Sam only shook his head and took his bag from Jo’s shoulder.

Dean realized then that Jo was standing in the doorway, holding her arm and her bag, ready to go. He clenched his jaw, a few more words stuck in his throat as he glared at Sam, then Cas in turn.

“Meet you at the car. Come on Jo.” He snatched up the keys from where Cas had tossed them onto the table, and stormed out of the room.

 

 

\----------------------

 

 

“We need to talk about these demon powers.” Cas barged into the cellar where Sam had buried himself as soon as he had his first cup of coffee this morning.

Yesterday had been terrible. Dean hadn’t said a damn word to either of them throughout the whole car ride from the hotel to Bobby’s and they arrived home so late, they all crashed for the night without a word. When Sam woke up it was to an empty house with the Impala and tow-truck missing, which could only mean Dean had towed the Impala to the shop—even though it was Sunday and usually the shop was closed. Cas hadn’t woken up yet, so Sam figured he could hide from them both until he got a hold of Ruby.

Now though, the storm in Cas’ eyes said otherwise. Sam swallowed tightly as Cas rested his hands on the table, inches from Sam’s face, demanding an answer to whatever question Sam hadn’t heard. Or maybe Cas didn’t ask it. Sometimes the hunter didn’t need words; his expressions were grim enough. Sam’s breath caught as he slid further back into his chair, trying to inch away from the hunter’s gaze.

“What did Dean tell you?” Sam wondered quietly.

“Nothing.” Cas admitted. “Whatever he saw yesterday troubled him so deeply that I doubt he’ll return from the shop until the Impala’s entire engine block is cleaned spotless. What exactly are these powers he accused you of having? Are the visions returning? I thought they disappeared when we killed Azazel.”

“N—no. It’s not the visions.” Sam murmured, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s um. I can exorcise demons. Without any, um, any prayers.”

“That’s impossible.” Cas told him with a stiff shake of his head.

“It’s not easy.” Sam admitted with a dry laugh.

“This isn’t funny Sam,” Cas growled. He pushed himself away from the table, raking his fingers through his hair. “How exactly can you exorcise demons?”

“It’s in my head.” Sam murmured. “I can’t really explain it. But I can feel it. Like some grade-A Jedi Mind trick.” Sam muttered, and when Cas stared at him blankly, Sam shook his head dismissively. “At first I couldn’t do it. It took me weeks before I could pull a demon entirely.”

“We have prayers,” Castiel stated. “And holy water and we have that knife. Why on earth would you—”

“They don’t always work!” Sam spoke over Cas to stop his rambling. “We were _lucky_ with Dean when he was possessed by that demon you guys ran into and you know it! Sometimes the demons are so careless that it spells death for the person they’re possessing as soon as you yank them out. And the blade just kills both of them. At least what I’m doing frees the human and sends the demon back to Hell.”

“How did you figure this out?” Cas narrowed his eyes. That air of coolness swirled around the hunter when Sam picked up his gaze. This was Cas edging into his hunting mode and it honestly made Sam sweat under his stare despite the chill in the cellar.

“It was a fluke.” Sam muttered. “The night I called you, to make sure you were okay back in June,” Sam waited for Cas to nod before he continued. “I got jumped by a few demons. I just reached my hand out, trying to get them away. They started to choke, and it spooked the others enough that I could get out of dodge. Started working on getting better after that.” Sam explained, shrugging lightly. It was half a truth wrapped in a lie, but he couldn’t tell that to Cas. He couldn’t tell Dean either. Not after the way his brother reacted. It was going to take them both some time to come around to the idea of hearing the truth. Sam could see that as the wheels slowly turned in Cas’ mind.

“Why didn’t you tell us this sooner?” Cas wondered.

Sam gave another helpless half shrug. “When was there time?” He asked. “Demons, Lilith, Dean coming back from Hell, Angels, Witnesses, Seals, and now Samhain. It didn’t seem like top-priority.” Sam murmured. He forced his head away from Cas, staring down at his lap top screen instead. “Anyway, I may have found another small case. Nothing I can’t handle alone. I should probably give Dean some space to cool off…”

“Don’t leave yet.” Cas told him. “Give him the day. I could use your help sorting through the seals.” Cas admitted, and everything hunter about his demeanor was suddenly gone. Sam glanced up to see Cas with loose shoulders and tired eyes as he stared at the stacked pile of books he’d left behind at the start of the week. Sam took a deep breath but he nodded.

Everything was quiet and peaceful after that. Cas worked through translations, Sam read through the notes, putting things into readable English and trying to pick through whether or not the wacky words or poem was about a seal. It was nice, but it brought Sam back to endless days locked down here with Cas, searching madly for a way into Hell. It brought back screams that Sam could hear from the kitchen upstairs. It brought back hazy nights of passing a bottle up and down the table until neither of them could see straight. Even when Sam had been off on hunts, or when he’d been with Ruby to tone up his powers, he never stopped researching. Never stopped looking for a way to free his brother—

Footsteps pounded loudly outside the cellar, and Sam picked his head up quickly. Dean was covered in grease to his elbows, his shirt was just as filthy and it stuck to him from sweat, or oil, or maybe both. But that wasn’t what made Sam nervous.

It was the fury in his gaze. It was his taut shoulders, his hands clenched into fists, his hard stomps down the last steps and across the floor. Cas shivered slightly, obviously feeling the anger rolling off Dean in endless waves. Sam frowned at the sharpness to his brother’s face, and jumped when Dean slammed his hands on the table.

“You know what hit me today?” Dean asked, his voice quiet, strained tight. The back of Dean’s neck was red, and Sam could only see that because his brother was so close to him. “How you got them demon powers in the first place. Remember what you told me? That dream you had about Azazel, standing over your crib and _bleeding_ into your mouth?”

The hair on the back of Sam’s neck raised as Dean spoke while he tried to keep his face neutral. His voice level never changed, but Sam could feel the fury, the disgust, the disbelief. Oh he’d been an idiot to think Dean wouldn’t put two and two together. So stupid. Dean wasn’t blinking. He was tense in front of Sam, and all he could think to do was wait for the snap.

“You only had those powers because of his blood. Even Annie said so the first time she saw you.” Dean said. “But Azazel is dead.” The smile on Dean’s face was not happy. It was cynical, mocking, and told Sam he was in for it this time. “So I gotta ask, how are you getting the powers now Sammy?”

Trouble. Sam was in so much trouble. That twisted smile lasted for about two seconds before it completely disappeared. Dean’s eyes were fierce, sweat trailed down his brow, and if Sam didn’t say something right now—

Too late.

Dean’s fists clenched his shirt. Sam felt his body lift out of the chair under Dean’s grip. His boots scraped on the floor, trying to catch as Dean dragged him from the table. Sam tried to pry a hand out of his shirt and when he did, Dean took a swing. Knuckles scraped across his cheek bone.

Sam stumbled into the nearest book shelf. The metal case rattled under his spine. Tears sprung to his eyes from the sting of the blow, but Sam blinked them away, not wanting to take his eyes off Dean. In case he swung again.

“How are you getting the powers, Sam?!” Dean shouted. His face was blotched, his jaw tight, and his fists were shaking at his side.

Sam’s heart was racing as his cheekbone throbbed. This wasn’t Dean. It was but it wasn’t. Something was there that Sam had never seen before now. It was raw and furious, and—stomping towards him with another balled fist like a Spanish bull seeing red. Sam barely managed to slide away so that his brother’s next blow landed against a book rather than his eyes.

“Dean!” Cas yelled, pulling his match back again, for the second time this month. Sam shook his head roughly.

“Leave him. It’s fine.” Sam managed to find his voice while Dean heaved his breaths in Castiel’s tight grip. “H—He’s right. Azazel’s blood gave me the visions last time. I—I don’t know what’s doing it—”

“Bull shit!” Dean snapped.

“It’s not bull shit!” Sam shouted back at him with everything he had. He couldn’t tell Dean right now. It wouldn’t make anything better. He had to convince Dean otherwise, at least until he wasn’t so angry. “Why would I lie to you Dean?”

“You lied about these fucking powers to start!” Dean waved a hand once Cas let him go.

“No I didn’t! I just didn’t have the time to tell you.” Sam reasoned. “I didn’t know…how to tell you! Fuck Dean, you were gone for six months—”

“Will you idiots stop reminding me?!” Dean bellowed. “I know I was gone. I know I was down there for six months. I know you guys went through shit trying to get me out. But this Sammy—” Dean pointed straight at his chest, and Sam felt like Dean had kicked him in the gut. “This is wrong on so many levels and you know it. You’re pulling demons with your fucking mind! Don’t you see how fucked up that is Sam? What makes you any different than the demons?”

Sam reeled at that, pushing himself forward and shoving his brother out of his face. “Don’t you dare say that to me!” Sam growled. “Not you, not after all we’ve been through. Yea, I had demon blood in me. But damn it Dean, you were gone and we were running out of options. And when I found out I had these powers, I thought—” Sam licked his lips as he sucked in a hard breath. “I thought I could turn this fucking curse into something good. I can save the people who get possessed. You remember what that feels like right Dean?”

That struck a nerve. Dean grew still. Sam tried not to think about it.

“Do you know how lucky you are that you survived the exorcism Cas had to do on you?” Sam asked. “Do you know how many demons we tore through, trying to find a way to get you out? Do you know how many innocent people we had to kill in order to put down a demon?”

Dean stopped shaking. It happened so suddenly, it was like someone doused his brother with ice water. Dean glared at him, but he shifted his head to side-glance at Cas.

“Did you know about this?” Dean asked his match. “About his powers?”

“No.” Cas answered. “But, Dean he’s right.”

“What? You support this?!” Dean spun on his heels, and Sam suddenly felt lighter. He could breathe easier despite his heart pounding in his chest, his blood pouring in his ears and the headache starting to throb at his temple.

When had Dean gained all that fury? Something had changed in him there was no doubting it now. The way he stood made Sam uneasy, like he was broken. Like he was healing slowly, and trying to trudge on anyway. It was in the way his shoulders looked heavy, but he kept his head up with that fury in his eyes.

“I support that Sam’s heart is in the right place.” Cas corrected. Sam was amazed the hunter was the most calm out of the trio. “He was trying to save innocent people. People like yourself who were caught at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“You didn’t see him last night.” Dean reasoned, his voice dropping. “You saw how powerful Samhain was. Sam didn’t flinch.”

“I had a bloody nose for half an hour after that.” Sam muttered quietly behind his brother’s shoulder. Dean only held up a finger to silence him. Suddenly, Sam felt like he was eight years old again with Bobby and Ellen arguing about whether or not he should be grounded for busting the Roadhouse window while playing catch with Dean.

“Sam is more than capable of handling himself in a fight.” Castiel said, tossing Sam a glance that was half sympathetic and half anger. “He’s saved both our asses more times than not. So yes, I’m glad he’s strong enough to face a high-level demon and not die. However I don’t agree with his powers either.”

“Then I’ll stop.” Sam groaned loud enough for the practically married couple to hear him. “I won’t use my powers unless we have no other choice. Can you two please stop arguing about me like I’m not even in the fucking room?”

Dean rolled his shoulder as he caught Sam’s gaze again. “You better give me your fucking word right now.” Dean muttered, his voice harsh, but the edges in his face were starting to smooth out. “You gotta give me something man, because if I can’t trust you and Cas, then I got nothing.”

Sam sucked in a quiet breath at the flash of fear that crossed Dean’s face. That’s what this was. Dean was afraid. But whether Dean was afraid _of losing_ him, or afraid _of_ him, Sam didn’t know. Maybe it was both, and that thought sunk into Sam’s stomach like a sour lemon.

“I swear.” Sam told him, holding Dean’s stare to prove he meant every word. Dean gave him a soft smile. Sam could see the awkward weight shift from his shoulders as he faced Cas again.

“And you, no more Angel secrets.” Dean added, jabbing a finger into his match’s chest. “We need to be together on this if we’re part of Angel Army. What you know, I know and Sam knows. Capiche?”

“You’re insufferable.” Cas muttered.

“Capiche?” Dean asked again.

“Yes Dean.” Cas agreed, rolling his eyes when Dean grabbed his hand to squeeze his fingers gently.

The air among them wasn’t as thick now, but Sam couldn’t say that he felt better. Dean gave them both a weak smile, muttered something about ordering take-out, and jogged back up the stairs. Cas watched him leave the whole time, and Sam sunk back into his seat, biting at his nail nervously.

Cas was taut, even as the cellar door closed, and he continued to stare at where Dean disappeared for a good five seconds. Sam decided to bring it up, since they were both probably thinking the same thing.

“He’s not all here…is he?” Sam murmured gently. “I’ve never seen him so furious. Ever. Dean could have a temper, but it would take a lot for him to snap like that.”

Cas breathed deeply as he walked back to the table. “He went through Hell Sam.”

Like either of them could forget that. But it made Sam wonder if maybe Dean couldn’t forget either.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the long time between chapters. I've been dealing with some personal stuff, but I'll try to keep the updates on a more regular schedule that way you guys aren't left hanging for too long. Thanks so much for sticking with me through all this <3


	8. The Fires Move In

November hit like it was the beginning of winter rather than the middle of fall. A week went by without any crazy cases, no demonic omens, and no words from Angels on seals either. Dean spent his weekdays turning wrenches at the auto-shop, and his weeknights watching Cas chip away at the scrolls and tomes that seemed to come endlessly from their cellar. He knew that during the day Cas was directing hunters to cases across the country, playing FBI CO, or Federal Marshal, or whatever other higher authority hunters needed when faced with the local LEOS. Sam helped occasionally with the seal translations, but mostly he seemed to be bouncing around the house and the Roadhouse, trying to track demons linked to Lilith.

But today was Sunday. The shop was closed, and Dean knew he had some work around the house that needed to get done. It rained on Friday, bringing down the first of many cold fronts for this winter. The trees all around the house seemed to shed at once, scattering the leaves across the ramps, porches and front driveway like premature snow. Today though, Dean was happy for the work, even if he needed to wear his thick coat and boats to keep the cold from burrowing into his skin.

The task was mind-numbing enough that Dean didn’t have to think too much, but required enough thought to keep his mind from wandering. It gave him something else to focus on that wasn’t the shop or hunting or the damn Apocalypse looming overhead. His breath fogged slightly in his face, but with his old canvas jacket he wasn’t too cold. There were still a few hours of sunlight left to warm him up as he took his rake around the house to the backyard.

“Well this can’t be good.” Bobby called from the back porch as Dean turned the corner, rake and black garbage bag in tow.

“Leaves ain’t gonna rake themselves.” Dean shrugged.

“Yea but usually you talk Sam into doing it for you.” Bobby noted. “This ‘bout what happened on your last hunt?” Bobby asked when Dean simply turned his shoulder to his uncle and continued his chore. “Trust me when I tell ya son, you can’t win ‘em all. No matter how hard you try.”

“Bobby I don’t need a pep talk.” Dean told him. And it was true, Dean thought. He wasn’t upset about losing a seal. Sure, it meant they were one tiny step closer to letting the devil out of the cage. But they had prevented the Angels from wiping an entire city off the map. Hundreds of families were safe, doing their house chores, same as Dean, because they stopped a demon from raising hell in their town.

Well. Sammy had stopped the demon. But Dean wasn’t thinking about that right now.

He turned to see that Bobby was glaring at him expectantly, and Dean sighed roughly, gripping the rake in his hand as he stared back at his uncle. “We saved a city from getting blasted by those winged dick-bags so I’m calling it a win. Seal or no fucking seal. I’m fine Bobby.”

“Uh-uh.” It was really something that those two syllables, that one grunt, was all Bobby needed to cut through Dean’s front. If that weren’t enough, his uncle continued, “Then what’s got you out here sulking like an ex-girlfriend?” Bobby snipped quietly.

Dean held back a groan. God knows how long Bobby held onto that one in his back pocket, waiting for a moment like this to toss at Dean. It was probably years. Dean stabbed at his small pile of leaves, reaching out to add a few more in as roughly as possible, listening to them crunch under the rake.

What did have him out here? Dean needed the work. It was Sunday so their shop was closed and no work there.

Cas was working in the living room last he’d checked, talking on the phone labeled FBI while he flipped through manuscripts. He didn’t seem to need any help, and Dean was terrible at reading Latin so helping with the seal hunt was out of the question.

Sam had disappeared as soon as sunrise broke as far as Dean could tell, and Dean had kept himself outside all morning. He needed to work. He needed to keep his hands busy. Otherwise his mind wandered. He thought of demons, choking on their own smoke under the hands of his brother. He saw ice-blue eyes that stared at him as though he were dangerous, as if he was being hunted. Or he heard the voice of Angels ringing sharply in his mind, speaking words like righteous and destiny that never made any sense.

“It’s Sam.” Dean answered before any of his real thoughts slipped out. He turned his eyes back to his pile, making sure that the pathways were clear around the house.

“What about him?” Bobby asked.

Dean felt his jaw clench at the image that popped into his mind easily. Sammy stood over Samhain who was kneeling as though at the feet of a king, hands clasped over his throat as black smoke cascaded from his mouth like a twisted black waterfall. Recently, it was the main image of his nightmares. One more thing he couldn’t get out of his head. Every time Dean looked up at his brother, expecting to find pain and determination, all he saw was Sammy grinning down at the demon.  A few times, his baby brother’s eyes had flashed black as Samhain choked on his own smoke.

“He’s got those damn demon powers back.” Dean gritted the words through his teeth, barely keeping himself from slamming the rake into the ground on his next pull. “Instead of freaking prophet dreams, he’s leveled up to exorcising. With his fucking mind.”

Bobby was silent while Dean raked the leaves off the paths and sidewalks. He was quiet for a long while. Long enough that Dean turned around to check that he was sitting on the porch behind him. Bobby’s jaw rolled and snapped shut as he breathed in deep, clearly still processing what Dean told him. Dean tried not to chuckle in slight satisfaction. Good to know he wasn’t the only one kept in the dark about Sammy’s demon powers. Sam hadn’t told Dean, which pained him, but he also hadn’t told Cas, or Bobby. Dean tossed the rake to the ground, bending down to scoop his small pile of leaves into the garbage bag at his feet.

“Did you see him usin’ them?” Bobby asked.

“Yep. On the big, bad Samhain himself.” Dean called over his shoulder.

“And it worked?” Bobby’s voice was edging at something that made Dean’s stomach clench painfully. Dean shoved the last of the leaves into the bag and stomped up onto the porch.

“Yes it worked. That not the point.” Dean said as he waved his hands towards the house. “He shouldn’t have these powers to begin with Bobby! It’s literally satanic!”

“I’m not disagreein’ with ya!” Bobby snapped back. “But if Sam’s got an edge, I’m grateful!”

“What?” Dean reeled at that. How was Bobby okay with this? How was Bobby okay with Sam having freaking demon powers?!

Bobby snapped his hands onto the armrest of his wheel chair. “What the fuck do you think got me stuck in this goddamn metal cage in the first place? Why do you think I kept my hunting trips a secret from you boys? I never wanted you two to get into this life! You boys fell into my lap after that fire and I knew it was gonna be hard enough without your parents—I didn’t wanna throw in monsters and demons into the mix. I wanted you idjits to grow up like any other snot-nosed kid, and I wanted you both to have normal, boring, civilian lives, just like your Mom would have wanted.” 

Dean felt his anger wash away at Bobby’s words, and he instantly regretted yelling at his uncle. Because at the end of it all, Bobby was like their father; he’d raised them, looked after them, and taught them everything they knew. And here was Dean, whining and complaining to the man that had given him everything and more.

Bobby took in a breath. “So even if Sam’s got these demon powers again—and I ain’t saying that I like ‘em anymore than you do—” he added quickly, like Dean was going to snap at him again. “But for right now son, it might be a good thing. He might be the ace you idjits need against the horde of demons trying to bring down the fucking Apocalypse. In case that little detail didn’t break through that thick melon of yours.”

“Kinda hard not to when my match is doing nothing but fucking research on those damn seals until three in the morning every night.” Dean muttered under his breath, his gaze casted to the floor of their porch. The bag of leaves was clutched in his fist tightly. He’d cleared most of the debris from around the house, and it was getting closer to dinner time. Knowing Cas and Bobby, neither of them had eaten much and who knew where Sam ran off to today.

“So you _are_ the sulking girlfriend?” Bobby teased, his voice gruff but a hint of a smile tugging his lips. Dean rolled his eyes again. He was so not having this conversation with Bobby. One was enough for today.

“I’m gonna grab takeout from the diner by the shop. Have Cas text me your orders.” Dean shook his head as he stomped down the porch steps. He dumped the bag of leaves with the others at the curb, sliding into the driver’s seat of his baby with a content sigh.

He steered her back out of the driveway and into town with practiced ease, letting the sound of her engine soothe him. His phone buzzed in his pockets a few minutes later, just as he was pulling past the garage towards the restaurant. He barely felt it though as something caught his attention by the shop.

At first, Dean wasn’t sure what he saw, but the movement shouldn’t have been there in the first place. It was Sunday. The shop was closed on Sundays. Dean palmed the steering wheel, easing the Impala into the dinner’s parking lot across the street from the shop. He chewed his lip, watching the garage through his side-view mirror. Maybe he just imagined it—

_Trust your instincts Dean. Hunting usually goes both ways. If you see something, anything, even if it’s just a second’s glance, you’re probably right. If you sense something’s out of place, or wrong, you’re definitely right. Don’t disregard those senses. They’ll keep you alive._

Castiel’s words rang in his mind from the first hunt they’d ever done together. A haunting outside of Tallahassee nearly four years ago that they’d found on a fluke while on a wild chase to save Balthazar from a group of demons. And Cas had been right of course. Dean’s instincts were almost never wrong. Right now, they were screaming like a fire-alarm that something was happening in the shop—and it wasn’t good.

“Fuck.” Dean hissed, barely restraining himself from kicking the door open. He pressed a hand to the side of his coat, thankful that he had a dagger in his jacket. That would have to do for now. The dinner rush was starting and the parking lot was getting too busy for Dean to dip into the Impala’s arsenal for his gun.

He tucked the keys into his pants pocket as he jogged across the road. He slipped around the complex towards the back of the building, where on any other work day, the three large garage doors were left wide open to let in any make or model car into the repair shop. But this was Sunday, so each door was drawn down and locked shut with a padlock.

Dean swallowed thickly as a muffled scream sounded from behind the second garage door. Oh that was never good. Dean reached into his pocket, slowly drawing out his knife. There was a grimy window between the first and second garage door, maybe Dean could get a quick look before barging through the back door.

The screaming stopped, and Dean froze, wondering if he’d imagined it. He pressed his side into the wall near the window, straining to hear any sounds from the other side of the wall. The screaming started again.

Now there were voices. He could hear others speaking, maybe together, there was definitely more than one. But they were muffled by the walls and drowned out by the shouts.

Dean’s heart pounded in his throat. What the fuck was in the shop at this hour, yelling for dear life? No one should be in there at all. He had a set of keys, so did Bobby, and so did Sam. Dean’s brain froze at the mention of his brother.

Sammy had been gone all day.

White hot panic shot through him. What if that was Sammy screaming in there right now? And Dean had spent the day fuming and angry with him. Another streak of panic zipped through him, followed by concern and fear that settled thick in his chest. Damn it. Now Cas knew that getting dinner wasn’t going so well. Cas could wait.

Sammy could be in the garage right now. Sammy could be the one screaming and shouting for help. Sammy could be the one getting tortured. Dean swallowed roughly. He didn’t bother checking the window. He ran under it towards the back door. He needed to get inside. Sam had been gone all day, and if he’d been caught in here, all day—

Dean fumbled with the keys as his hands shook at the thought of Sammy tortured for an afternoon because Dean was too stubborn to deal with their stupid fight. Dean would never forgive himself for this. The key finally slid into the lock and the bolt slid easily as Dean jerked his wrist while shouldering the door. He let it swing open, banging loudly against the wall. Element of surprise was always good right?

“Dean?” That was Sammy’s voice.

Silver knife clutched tightly in his hand, Dean ran around the first lift, ready for a fight, ready to gank whatever—or whoever—had Sammy in here. But the fight never happened.

“Shit.”

Laughter was the second thing to hit Dean’s ears after the swear of a young woman standing behind Sammy. Standing behind Sammy. Dean had to blink and look again to make sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him.

Sammy was standing. He was fine, but the look of horror on his face kept the hair raised at Dean’s neck. His knuckles tightened on the knife. Sam swallowed, his breath catching in his throat just like that time Dean had walked in on him kissing a girl the first time on the back porch.

No, this was worse than that. This was so much worse. Because Sam was standing in front of a guy who was strapped down to a chair in chains of iron, and at first glance that would look ridiculous. But the guy was laughing at Dean’s bewilderment, and when Dean finally glared at him, the man’s eyes flickered black.

Sam had a demon trapped in their uncle’s auto-shop. Sam spent a day with a demon trapped in their uncle’s auto-shop. Dean blinked and more details came into focus. The concrete around the demon was a dark grey, wet with holy water from the jug in Sammy’s hand. The demon knife was tucked into Sammy’s jeans, and the demon had a few bloody marks on his face, neck, and arms, which meant Sam had used it.

Sam had spent the day torturing a demon.

“Wait, before you freak out let me explain—” Sam started, dropping the jug to his feet and holding his hands out. Dean’s gaze flickered to his brother, and then he noticed the woman behind him, trying to hide in Sam’s broad shoulders.

“Who the fuck is she?” Dean hissed. Wasn’t this the girl from Stanford? The one Sam hooked up with back in Pontiac? Sam’s throat bobbed again as he turned in panic, glancing at the woman then back at Dean. His brother tried for words, but only a few sounds seemed to cut it.

The demon in the chair laughed again. “Aww this is fucking adorable. Boy-king trying to be all hot shit. Just like his brother, but look. Soon as big bro shows up, you’re nothing but a bumbling brat. Azazel was a fool to think you were fit to wear the crown.”

Quicker than either brother could respond, the girl snatched the demon blade from Sam’s belt and plunged it into the man’s heart. Bright red flashes lit under his skin as the demon yelled one last time, his head thrown back in pain. The crackling ceased as the woman drew the knife back out. The body slumped forward against its chains.

Sam let out a rough breath. “Damn it we were so close.”

“We weren’t getting anywhere with him.” The girl said.

“Getting anywhere? Sam!” Dean shouted, because Sam ignored the fact that Dean was right in front of him, giving his attention to the girl at his arm instead. “You’ve got about ten seconds to explain what the fuck is going on here before I start throwing punches.”

“Good to see you too, Dean.” The girl sighed, tossing back her dark hair as she wiped the demon blade clean with a red shop-rag.

Dean frowned at her, anger swirling in his gut at the sight. She was holding the blade like she owned the damn thing. Dean blinked at the thought, and the girl smirked something wicked.

“Ruby?” Dean hissed. “Is this Ruby? Why the fuck are you torturing demons with Ruby in the back of the shop!?” Dean shouted louder with each question. Sam closed the distance between them, holding his hands out gently.

“Look, it’s a long story, and I’ll tell you everything, I promise.” Sam muttered. “But believe it or not, we’ve got a case. I was trying to get more info out of this one but—”

“A case?” Dean echoed. “How can you think of a case right now? _Why are you working with Ruby?!_ ” Dean bellowed. His anger swirled thick in his chest, and the bond flared as the emotion ran down his arm, settling heavily. The worry, the panic, the fear, the concern was all gone now. There was nothing but rage.

“I was the one that tipped him off about the case.” Ruby explained with a nod towards Sam. “This girl—Sarah Blake—is spouting out details about the seals and the Apocalypse. Her parents have her locked up in Connor Beverly Behavioral Medical center, but there’s a bounty on her head. Up for grabs by any demon. This fella was trying to make a grab. I got to him first. You two need to go and find her—” Ruby was talking to Sam now, her hand still resting on Sam’s arm like Dean wasn’t standing in the same fucking room. “I’ll take care of the body. You should go.”

“Yea, right. Dean, come on—” Sam made a grab for Dean’s arm, but Dean twisted away from his brother with an easy snap.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’re working with Ruby.” Dean swore. “How’d you even get top-side? Last I heard you were deep down under.”

Ruby snickered as she handed over the demon blade to Sam. “You’d know all about that Dean.” She muttered. “And yea, I did a lot of ass-kissing to get back but I wasn’t the only one either. Lilith’sback and she’s bitching for a rematch. Since you were down for the count, someone had to come and get Sam ready for the big leagues. Your Angel sure wasn’t gonna do it with how badly he wanted to chase those hounds after you. So if anything you should be thanking me—”

“Ruby that’s enough.” Sam snapped. “Take care of the body. Clean up the shop. Dean? Dean!” Sam’s hand on Dean’s shoulder was the only thing keeping Dean from charging at Ruby. “Not now. Come on, this girl’s in trouble.”

Dean couldn’t take his eyes off Ruby. That itch was back under his skin. Ruby’s words only chaffed it, reminded Dean how raw he felt. Even after three months, Dean twitched at the mention of demons, of Hell and of Lilith. Now Ruby was back in the mix, and Dean couldn’t think past the blinding hot rage in his chest.

The sinking feeling in his stomach from earlier was stronger too now, and all Dean wanted to do was snatch the demon blade to drive it into Ruby’s stomach. The demon blade was tucked between Sam’s fingers though. And somehow, Dean could see that Sam wouldn’t kill Ruby. They’d obviously been working together, but for how long, Dean couldn’t say. Probably months, if the look on Sam’s face was anything to go by right now.

Sam trusted Ruby. He trusted Ruby more than he trusted Dean or Cas. Sam had lied about her back in Pontiac, pretending they were nothing more than a fling, and now, unless Dean said something, Sam would probably lie to Cas again too. Because Cas hated Ruby from the start, and maybe Sam knew that. Dean stared at his brother in disbelief.

What had they done to earn his mistrust? What had Dean done to make Sam lie to him? What had Cas done to deserve Sam’s lies? How had those six months broken them so much that demons could fill in the cracks? Dean shook his head at Sam’s gaze, it was pleading and begging as Sam reached forward to push him towards the exit. Dean didn’t have much of a choice as Sam practically hauled him out of the shop.

The sun had set. The night should be cold but Dean was fuming, even as he sat down heavily in the Impala’s driver seat, Sam crammed in next to him.

They didn’t speak as Dean drove, angrily, back towards the house. Sam didn’t say a word as Dean stepped out of the car and stomped up from the front steps of Bobby’s house. Dean tossed the keys haphazardly towards the bowl by the front door, stripping off his jacket as he stomped into the kitchen.

He needed something to drink. And it needed to be hard, hard liquor. He crouched down to look under the sink. There had been a bottle of whiskey back there. Dean remembered stashing it behind the bleach. His hands fumbled around the cleaning products. The bottle was gone.

“Dean, stop.” Sam pleaded. “Look, let’s just talk about this before you try to drown yourself.”

“Oh _now_ you want to talk Sammy?” Dean asked, slamming the cabinet shut. He straightened but he didn’t turn to look at his brother. Instead he reached for the cabinetsabove the fridge. There had been tequila in one of these. That could do him in nicely tonight. “Doubt there’s anything else you could say to me tonight. Not after that.” The tequila was gone. _Damn it_.

“I was trying to get info Dean, that’s it.” Sam told him, eyeing Dean as he paced away from the fridge. “I wasn’t even using my powers. I had holy water—”

“You don’t get it Sam.” Dean finally snapped with a wave of his arms. “I thought that was you in there. I thought—” Dean swallowed thickly at the image that flashed into his mind, dark and grimy like something from an old horror film.

 

**_Sammy was tied to a rack._ **

**_He was thrashing, trying to break free. That didn’t help. It only sunk the chains and hooks deeper into his flesh._ **

**_Sam had cried out to him, trying to reach through the fire and the smoke, begging for help_** —

 

“You thought I was the one getting hurt.” Sam realized, the breath leaving him as his eyes fell shut and his shoulders slumped. “God, Dean, I’m sorry I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it.” Dean bit the words out. He needed a drink. Now.

Cas came stomping down the steps as Dean was trying to reach behind the sofa. He had a towel in his hair, but he dropped it instantly, seeing the tension between the brothers. Dean barely spared him a glance before returning to his task. There had definitely been a flask behind the sofa filled with vodka. Where the hell had it disappeared to in the last year? No one else had known about it.

“Dean?” Castiel asked timidly. “What happened? I thought—”

“Ask Sam.” Dean muttered. He stepped away from the couch empty handed and wandered towards Bobby’s desk. The bottom drawer opened after a soft kick, and Dean sighed quietly in relief. Old man always had some Scotch on hand. Dean pulled the bottle out of the draw, found the glass Bobby had probably used a few nights ago and quickly poured himself a glass. He downed it without a second though, relishing the burn and smooth finish.

“Sam?” Cas prompted. Dean glanced up to find Sam glaring at him, eyes watery as he flickered between the bottle in Dean’s hand, and his eyes.

“Look, it doesn’t matter right now.” Sam said, turning to face Cas with squared shoulders. “What matters is that there are demons hunting after a girl. Her name is Sarah Blake and she’s been talking about the seals, the Apocalypse, Lilith, the whole nine. If we don’t get to her soon, the demons will. We know where she is. We need to save her before it’s too late.”

Dean poured himself another glass, sipping it slower this time as he watched. Sam had squared his shoulders, and was now pointedly ignoring Dean in favor of convincing Cas this case was top priority. Dean rolled his lips as the Scotch passed his tongue. Castiel was clutching the towel in his hands tightly. When Dean tugged open the bond again, he felt doubt, confusion, frustration and a trailing bit of anger that may just be Dean’s emotions tangling the line.

“Call Jo. See if she’ll go with you.” Cas said. “Dean and I will follow shortly.”

“Cas I—” Sam started, but Cas shook his head stiffly.

“Sam.” Cas glared, and to Dean’s surprise, Sam backed away a step. He was fuming though as he brushed past Castiel and out the front door with a slam.

Dean winced inwardly, letting his eyes fall shut as he collapsed into the desk chair. When Dean opened his eyes again, Cas was standing next to him, slipping the bottle from his fingers. Cas even managed to pry the glass from Dean’s hand, and Cas shot back what was left of the amber liquid.

“You shouldn’t drink so heavily in front of your brother.” Cas murmured with a smack of his lips. “It still bothers him.”

“He can kiss my ass right now for all I care.” Dean muttered. “I’m guessing he’s the one who cleared the house out?”

“No,” Cas sighed, his eyes suddenly downcast. “That was me.”

“What?” Dean sounded more bewildered than he truly felt. It should surprise him that Cas could find places where Dean had once hid bottles of alcohol from his brother and uncle. It should shock him that Cas could shoot back a finger of Scotch without batting his eyes. Because once, maybe a life time ago, Cas never drank. Beers could get him drunk faster than liquor, and Cas had played DD more times than Dean could remember.

But honestly Dean wasn’t surprised. He’d known since he got back from Hell—it was in the way Cas drank beers like water, too quickly and reaching for another absently. It was in the way Jo knew his orders at the Roadhouse and didn’t have to ask. It was in the way Cas held the Scotch in his fingers tightly now, because he knew Dean could snatch the bottle away at any second.

It was in the way Cas shrugged as an answer to his question. Because they both knew it wasn’t that shocking. Dean had died. The Hell Hounds had ripped him to shreds while he was still bonded to Cas. The hunter had felt everything—every sink of teeth, every tear of claws until Dean was torn right out of him. For six months, Cas had to live with that haunting feeling. Cas didn’t have to tell him about it, but Dean knew

Dean shivered at the memory. At the thought of that terrible night replaying over in Cas’ mind, he reached for his match. Ruby’s words rang in his head: _He wanted to chase the hounds after you_. Dean didn’t miss the meaning behind that, and the thought made him shiver again. Sitting in the chair, Dean was leveled with Castiel’s abdomen, and he buried his face into the cloth of Cas’ worn Henley, clutching tightly as if any minute now the hounds could come chasing after Cas.

“Tell me what happened.” Cas murmured, his fingers raking through Dean’s hair soothingly. “I felt your anger Dean, your pain.”

Dean shook his head roughly. “It doesn’t matter.” He lied. “Sam was right about the girl. Demons put a bounty on her. That can’t be good.”

“How did he find out about this?” Cas asked sharply.

“Found him with a demon back at the shop.” Dean answered, pointedly leaving out the fact that Ruby had been there as well. This whole situation was already fucked up and Dean didn’t want to add the fact that Ruby was back just yet.

“He was interrogating the demon.” Castiel figured, his fingers brushing over the back of Dean’s neck lightly. “Was he—”

“Not with his powers.” Dean muttered, shaking his head. His eyes were still closed as he kept his forehead pressed against Castiel’s waist, breathing in the smell of Bobby’s laundry detergent, old leather bound books, and a hint of Scotch now. Had Cas always smelled like this? Once, Dean remembered the smell of old leather but it used to be paired with spearmint toothpaste and aftershave. When had it changed?

“I don’t even know how Sammy learned to torture demons in the first place.” Dean muttered spitefully as he pulled away just enough to reach for the bottle of Scotch in Castiel’s fingers.

“I taught him.” Cas answered softly once Dean had swallowed a mouthful of the amber liquid.

“Why?” Dean asked, staring up at Cas. He tried to keep the pain out of his gaze. He tried to keep out how much that thought hurt, how it scratched at raw nerves and pulled at Dean’s anger. He really did. He didn’t want to be angry at Cas, but the thought of his match, twisting the edge of that demon knife into some black-eyed meat suit made Dean’s stomach churn. The thought of Sammy doing that made him shudder.

Castiel let out a rough breath and drew the bottle out of Dean’s grasp, slamming it on top of a tome. He pushed Dean’s chair back so that they were eye leveled. Cas’ eyes were dark in the orange glow from the desk lamp, and Dean had to swallow roughly to keep his match’s gaze.

“You greatly underestimate the lengths I’m willing to go through for you Dean Winchester.” Castiel spoke, his voice gravelly and deep but quiet. He held Dean’s eyes the entire time he spoke, and Dean could feel his breath warm in the space between their lips. “You are the match I thought I would never have, Dean. It was my fault that you were caught up in this life. Because of me you suffered. Did you really think I was going to sit idle after the Hounds left? Did you think Sam would? If so, then you severely underestimate your brother’s love for you as well.”

Dean scoffed quietly at that, turning to reach for the Scotch. Castiel caught the chair, swiveling it back to face him, pinning Dean into the chair with his hands clasped on the armrests.

“You were taken. I was determined to do _anything and everything_ I could to get you back.” Castiel told him, and Dean tried to focus on breathing against his heart hammering in his chest. There was pain mixed with devotion swirling under his ribs as Cas stared at him, searching for something in his eyes. “Your brother and I made a promise we intended to keep. We swore to find a way to free you from Hell. He wanted to help. I couldn’t deny him. Does this truly come as a shock to you?”

Dean swallowed the emotions in his throat, his gaze falling away from Cas. Instead they trailed down to the hunters hands, gripping the arm rest, keeping Dean in the chair. Cas was only wearing a plain short-sleeved Henley. It showed off his tan arms, and Cas was holding the chair so tightly his veins were pulsing against his skin. Dean could see a few faint scars criss-crossing the inside of Cas’ forearm, probably from hunts long ago. Dean took a breath and finally shook his head.

“I don’t like it.” Dean admitted, picking his head up to stare back at Cas with as much force as he could. “You and Sam, torturing.” He added. Cas eased back, letting go of the chair slowly.

“Does this have to do with what you remember?” Castiel asked. His words were careful and spoken gingerly, like Dean was a riled up horse, easy to spook with the wrong phrase. Dean knew what he meant though.

Hell. Sam still didn’t know that Dean remembered his six months. Cas knew, but Dean hadn’t told him anything. Not even on the few nights he’d jolted so roughly from a nightmare that he woke Cas on accident. Neither of them knew.

“It doesn’t matter.” Dean finally muttered with another rough shake of his head. “Let’s get the car and go chase after this girl Sam’s so worried about—” He stood from his chair but was stopped by a warm hand on his chest, and the other brushing against his jaw to hold him in place gently. Dean lost his words.

Cas was staring at him with such wide-eyes, pleading but sympathetic. He didn’t have to say anything else. Dean knew what he was trying to ask.

“Cas, not right now.” Dean whispered, grabbing the hand at his neck, squeezing Cas’ wrist tightly.

“I understand.” Cas murmured gently. “So long as you know that.” He added. The hand on Dean’s chest trailed down to his arm, and Cas rubbed his elbow softly, his thumb ghosting over Dean’s mark. It made him shudder softly at the soothing and gentle heat that spread over him again.

“Yea.” Dean spoke, his voice tight. “Course.” He watched as Cas gave him a tiny smile and pulled away to jog up the stairs to pack for them both.

 

 

\----------------------

 

 

Sam clicked the pen in his hands while he pretended to read through the medical papers attached to his clipboard. He kept his head down as he walked into the single room, letting the door shut quietly behind him.

“You’re new.” The soft voice sounded worried, and Sam picked his head up to smile in reassurance.

There was a single cot in the quaint, plain room. It rested under a barred window, and the young woman sitting on the bed had her back against the headboard, her legs crossed, and a sketch book nestled in her lap. She shut it quickly when Sam noticed it. Her fingers dropped the charcoal onto a messy scrap page on the bed before picking at the medical bands around her wrists. Her gaze fell to the closed notebook again, and she quickly brushed aside a dark curl from her face. The charcoal on her fingers smudged onto her brow, and Sam did his best not to smile at the sight.

She looked up at him then, as if sensing his quiet chuckle. Her eyes were wide, cautious and a dark hazel as they flickered over Sam, taking in his scrubs, his fake badge, the clipboard and pen in his hands. She was observant. That could be a good thing. Her dark hair was pulled into a loose braid, kept over one shoulder, her skin was slightly tanned against the white scrubs she wore, and as she pulled her knees to her chest, she seemed more like a teenager than twenty-three. She looked nothing like a raging schizophrenic.

“Yes. My name is Sam,” he finally answered, sitting down on the chair across from her bed as gingerly as possible. “They say you’re not taking you medication anymore.” He noted with a quick glance at his clipboard with her medical file. “You wanna tell me why?”

Sarah turned her gaze away guiltily. “I—it makes me drowsy.” Sarah admitted. “I don’t like it. I could miss something important if I’m asleep.”

“Important? Like what?” Sam wondered gently.

“Nothing.” Sarah said quickly. “You wouldn’t believe me.” She added almost silently. Her gaze fell to her lap as she picked at her nails.

Sam let the silence grow between them. He watched carefully as Sarah tilted her head curiously towards the window. Her eyes grew distant and her lips parted slowly, like she was watching and listening to something beautiful outside. Sam spared a glance at the window. There was nothing but white metal bars, and the view only held part of the building next door.

“Sarah?” Sam almost whispered.

She gasped quietly as Sam caught her attention again. She pulled her knees up tighter to her chest. “Sorry. I was…” she raised her gaze up from her lap then, catching his eyes. Her mouth fell open suddenly, and her face lit up shyly. “You…you’re Sam?” She asked, her voice soft, amazed but cautious.

“Yes.” Sam agreed gently, wondering if maybe short-term memory loss should be on her medical list as well.

“Sam Winchester?” Sarah asked, her voice growing stronger now as she let go of her knees and sat at the edge of her bed.

 Sam swallowed thickly. He was pretty sure he’d never mentioned his last name.

“You’re Dean Winchester’s brother.” She gasped as Sam continued to stare at her in surprise.

“How did you—?” Sam whispered.

“The-they talk about you. And Dean,” Sarah explained in a burst of words. “The Angels, I mean. Dean is the Righteous Man who Aniel saved from the pit of Hell. They know about you too Sam. They’ve been watching you! All of you!”

She was frantic. With each sentence her voice grew louder, more certain, more fearful despite the wide smile on her face. It was like she was relieved that Sam was here, and scared out of her mind at the same time. She sat up suddenly, launching herself at Sam, grabbing his arms tightly. Her eyes were blown wide, begging, pleading now.

“Please Sam, I’m not crazy.” She stated, shaking her head enough to toss her braid from her shoulder. “I can hear them. I know about them. I can hear everything they say.”

Them. Sarah meant the Angels. She could hear the Angels talking. Sam sucked in a breath as the pieces clicked together in his mind. That was how she knew about Lilith and the seals. That was why the demons wanted her so badly. She was a direct link to the Angels. If the demons got a hold of Sarah, Lilith could skirt around Angels effortlessly to break all the seals. He had to get her somewhere safe.

“I believe you.” Sam told her. He stood as well, setting the clipboard down on his chair. He was glad some of the fear left her eyes, and her shoulders relaxed. Her grip on his arms stayed the same though, as if letting him go would be letting go of her last bit of sanity.

“Thank you,” Sarah sighed. Sam smiled lightly. “You know, it’s not safe here.” She told him quietly.

“This is a hospital Sarah,” Sam reasoned. “Most people here aren’t going to hurt you.”

“But the medicine they give me…” Sarah said, shaking her head gently. “It knocks me out. I’ll miss what the Angels are saying and it’s important. They talk about the seals. Lilith has broken at least twenty now. She only needs to break sixty-six—”

“I know.” Sam told her quickly when she stopped to take a frantic breath. “We know. The Angels have it covered and we’re helping when we can.”

Sarah shook her head again, more worry poured into her face. “No. The Angels are losing. There are nearly six _hundred_ seals, and Lilith only needs to break sixty-six! They don’t know which ones she’ll go after. But I—I know which ones the Angels are protecting at all cost.”

Sam rubbed his lips gently, jumping slightly as his phone started buzzing in his pocket. Sarah jolted as well, taking a step back when Sam answered it quickly.

“Yea?”

 _“I’ve got some bad news,”_ Dean murmured over the phone. _“We’re at the girl’s house. The demons ransacked the place looking for her. Parents got caught in the crossfire—”_

Sarah gasped quietly, her hands covering her mouth in horror. Sam winced. He hadn’t thought his phone was loud enough for her to hear. Sarah sunk down into the bed as tears pricked her eyes, but Dean was rambling in his ear again.

_“We should get her to Bobby’s. These bastards aren’t kidding around Sam.”_

“Yea, yea I know. Jo’s outside with the car. We’ll get her out of here.” Sam promised, more to Sarah than to Dean. “Meet you guys back at the room.” Sam added and he hung up the line quickly. “Grab your stuff, we’re leaving.” Sam nodded to Sarah’s notebook as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“My parents—” Sarah sobbed.

“I’m so sorry Sarah, I know this is tough.” Sam shook his head in sympathy. “But I promise, we’re getting out of here and I’m gonna take you somewhere safe okay?” Sam waited until she rubbed her eyes free of tears and nodded gently. Sam tucked his phone away and pointed at the art supplies scattered across her bed. “Come on, we gotta leave now.”

Sarah scrambled for her sketch book and charcoals, shoving them all into a bag she pulled from under her bed, and darted across the room behind him. Sam made sure to hook a hand over Sarah’s arm gently, making it seem like he was escorting her to a socializing room rather than out of the center entirely. Sarah didn’t seem to mind, and she kept her head down, leaning into Sam as they skirted around the crowded hallways. The only time she looked up, she let out a quiet scream.

Sam caught the whiff of sulfur too late. Knuckles scraped across his upper lip and the force made Sam stagger backwards into a medical cart. He could taste iron and salt in his mouth as his vision cleared, and he could see the possessed doctor in medical scrubs stalking towards Sarah.

“Sarah! GO!” Sam shouted as he regained his balance and launched himself at the demon. He tackled the black-eyed doctor before he could reach Sarah, grabbing the man around the waist and sending them into the nearest doorway with a crash.

“Sam!” Sarah yelled in fear.

“Just go!” Sam yelled back, seeing that Sarah was frozen against the hall. Another punch cracked across Sam’s temple. He fell off the demon, dazed, and the bastard was back on its feet.

Sarah screamed before running.

Sam reached out his hand, and the demon froze in its tracks. Sam winced as he struggled to take control of the black soul possessing the poor doctor. He was weak. The last time he used his powers was on Samhain over a week ago. Now, his head pounded as the demon fought for control over his body. Sam clenched his fingers. He could barely feel the power surging from his fingertips and he was almost too weak. Sam pushed anyway. He reached out again, clutched his fingers tight and pulled back. The doctor stumbled enough that Sarah managed to get to the exit.

Sam spat up blood from his mouth as he dropped his arm. The demon sucked in a breath, and probably the rest of its twisted soul, turning dark eyes back on Sam.

“Exorsamus te.” Sam muttered, loud enough for the demon to hear. “Omins immudus spiritus…”

The demon twitched, and then expelled from the poor bastard before Sam could get out another line of Latin. Sam sighed in relief as the doctor’s body slumped to the floor. He took another deep breath, reaching a hand up to his lip. There was blood in his mouth, but whether it was coming from a busted lip or a bloody nose, Sam had no idea. And he didn’t have time to find out.

Sam ran from the room, taking the stairs two, sometimes three at a time and bursting out from the center with a harsh breath. The air was cold as it smacked into his face, the wind snapping at his eyes and his hair. The door closed behind him as he ran towards the center of the road, scouring the parking lot.

“Sarah!” He yelled, his breath fogging in front of his face. No one answered him. The parking lot was far from empty, but Sarah was gone.

“Sam?” Jo called from the car, and Sam quickly waved her over as he pulled out his phone, dialing his brother. He heard the car engine rev as Jo steered it from the parking spot and up to Sam. “What happened?”

“Did you see her? Dark hair, about your height, bolted out from the center?” Sam asked.

“You lost her?” Jo gasped as Sam swore. His phone was ringing in his ears as he hurried into the passenger seat.

 _“Sam?”_ Cas was the one to answer the phone.

“A demon jumped us in the center,” Sam explained quickly to both Cas and Jo. “Sarah managed to get away. Demon smoked out. But—”

 _“She ran off.”_ Cas guessed, and Sam could briefly hear Dean swearing in the background.

“She knows to stay away from her house.” Sam told him hurriedly as he fell back into passenger seat and slammed the car door shut. “But, I don’t know where else she would go.”

 _“I think I know.”_ Cas said, and Sam quickly put the phone on speaker so that Jo could listen. _“There’s a chapel where her father was a Reverend. It’s at the corner of Hutchison Drive and Berkley Ave.”_ Cas explained. _“All white, with a large stain-glass window on the second floor.”_

“Good place to go if you’re running from demons.” Jo murmured, glancing at Sam with a nod. She hit the gas, sending the car reeling towards the street.

“Yea. We’ll meet you there. And guys? Come packing.” Sam muttered before hanging up his phone.

 

 

\-------------------------

 

 

The entire church was empty, which made sense since it was the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday, and the Reverend was dead. Dean shook his head. This was way too easy and it was setting his nerves on edge. Dean knew churches were hallowed ground, which meant Ghosts couldn’t cross the thresholds. Vampires could if the church hadn’t been blessed, but the jury was out on Werewolves and Demons. So the Demons could probably get into this church. It wouldn’t be the safest place for this girl to hide. And there only seemed to be one way in—the front door. As Dean followed Castiel up the back stairs behind the organ, he was tense. This was way too easy, and they were going to be cornered.

“Sarah?” Castiel called out, his usually gruff and deep voice carried through the vaulted room.

Something shifted in the back corner by the stained glass window. Dean snapped to attention instantly, his fingers tightening around the handle of his gun.

“It’s safe Sarah,” Cas continued. “Sam sent us. My name is Castiel, and this is Dean.”

Quiet footsteps accompanied the echoing of Castiel’s voice, and the movement by the window turned out to be the young woman. Dean relaxed a few degrees, the fearful hazel-brown eyes reminded him too much of Sammy so he lowered his weapon.

Cas offered her a smile as he held out his hands, holding his gun to the ceiling, far away from her. Dean followed his lead, opting to tuck his gun back into his jeans. Sarah watched them carefully, her fingers pushing at the bottom end of the braid hanging over her shoulder. She must have found clothes between the center and the church, because she was wearing a dark green turtle neck, a tan canvas jacket, jeans and boots. Her eyes darted between them again as her fingers fell to the bottom edge of her shirt.

“Dean? Dean Winchester?” Sarah asked softly. “Your Sam’s brother?”

“Yea, that’s me.” Dean agreed. She smiled, and some of the fear left her face. She swallowed once, her gaze darting between the two men before settling back down on Dean.

“They talk about you. A lot.” Sarah said.

“Who?” Dean wondered, passing his confusion to Cas, who only gave him a slight shrug.

Sarah noticed the confusion and a small blush flushed her cheeks. “Sorry. The um, the Angels,” Sarah stuttered, her fingers waving as she spoke. “I—I can hear them. In my head sometimes. Lik—like someone’s whispering over my shoulder.”

“You can hear the Angels?” Cas asked, almost like he couldn’t believe it. “They speak to you?”

“No not exactly. It’s more like they, um, speak around me and I uh—I just listen. Sometimes.” Sarah stuttered again. She was nervous, Dean realized. She wouldn’t stop fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt as she spoke and she wouldn’t focus on either of them while she talked. Her gaze flickered from Dean to Cas, and Dean didn’t miss how she would shy away from Castiel’s gaze. Dean couldn’t blame her for that though. Those blue eyes were intense.

“Explains why the demons are after her.” Castiel told him.

“Yea,” Dean agreed, but he was keeping his eyes on Sarah. “You’re not actually crazy, you’ve just been tuning into Angel Radio this whole time. Cas can pick up on the frequency now and then too.” Dean added with a light jab of his thumb.

That made Sarah smile warmly. “Thanks. Good to know I’m not actually insane.”

Dean tried to smirk. “Come on, we’re gonna get you somewhere sa—”

“DEAN!” Jo’s voice boomed from the stairs behind them.

Dean snapped at the call, reaching for his gun and stepping in front of Sarah protectively in one move. Castiel stood closer to the door, a step in front of Dean as heavy boots echoed up from the stairwell.

Jo burst into the room, closely followed by a disgruntled Sam. They were both out of breath, but Sam had blood trickling down his forehead, and his lips were stained red like he’d been socked in the teeth.

“We gotta go.” Sam ordered. There were more steps, and another woman popped up behind Sam.

Dean swore under his breath. Ruby. When the fuck did she get here? Dean glared at Sam, then Ruby, and he could feel Cas on the verge of asking a question when Sarah screamed behind them.

 “She’s a demon!” Sarah accused, pointing at the girl and clutching at Dean’s arm tightly. Jo snapped quickly with her shotgun, but Sam stood between them, glaring down the double-barrel until Jo lowered her gun.

“Sam, what are you—” Cas wondered.

“We gotta get out of here.” Sam held his hand up, waving to the stairwell behind him. “We can hash this shit out later.”

“He’s right.” Ruby said. “There were demons watching the girl’s house and they followed you two love-birds here.” She was staring at Dean while she spoke, as if it was his fault they were now cornered in his church.

“Fine.” Dean muttered, turning to reach for Sarah.

The poor girl couldn’t take her eyes off Ruby, and her face was one of pure horror. Sarah was still clutching at Dean’s jacket, and she only shook her head stiffly. “I—”

“Sarah, it’s okay,” Sam voice was soft as he spoke, reaching a hand out to her gently. “She’s a friend.”

“Sam,” Castiel ground his teeth together, as he eyed Ruby. “Who is she?”

“Not now.” Dean muttered, gaining a sharp glare from Cas. He didn’t let it crawl under his skin. “Jo you got the car gassedup outside?” He asked.

“Yea.” Jo nodded.

“Good, we’ll clear a path for you two downstairs.” Dean explained. He pulled Sarah’s hand off his arm gently. That got the girl’s attention, and Dean nodded over at Jo. “You can see Jo’s a true-blue human right?” And when Sarah gave a small nod, Dean smiled. “Good. You get in her car, and you split. We’ll meet up with you later.”

“Fuck.” Ruby swore. “We’re too late. And it’s gonna be trouble if the Angels are crying.” She explained.

Castiel was the next person to swear and it sent a shiver of worry down Dean’s spine. All he had to do was look over Sarah’s shoulder to see what Ruby and Cas were swearing about, and it definitely wasn’t a comfort. In the corner near the window there was a white-marble statute of an Angel. Or maybe it was a saint. Dean had no clue. What he did know, was the tears of blood streaming down the statues face couldn’t be a good sign. Well. That was another first.

Ruby spun on her heels to face Sam. “You gotta pull this guy as soon as they get up here or we’re all fucked.”

“I could barely get the guy in the hospital, Ruby.” Sam murmured.

Dean sucked in a breath at the name. _Sam you idiot,_ Dean swore silently.

Castiel became a stiff rod beside him. “Ruby?” Castiel hissed. His grip on his salt-gun tightened.

Dean saw his finger press against the trigger and he reached over quickly, pressing his hand to Cas’ arm. Now wasn’t the time to set off gunshots. The demons still had a whole Church to search.

“We can kiss and greet later.” Ruby promised as she glared over her shoulder at Cas, then Sarah and Jo. “Come on you two.”

“No, no no, I can’t—” Sarah shook her head, panic and defiance in her gaze as Ruby stomped past her.

“Sarah, it’s okay.” Jo told her, stepping up to Sarah with a small smile on her face. “I won’t leave you.” Jo said, taking her hand and hurrying to whereRuby was clearing out a closet for them to hide. Jo tossed back at glare at Sam and Dean just as the door blew wide open.

Four demons came barreling into the room.

Cas managed to fire off two salt rounds, taking out the first ones to shatter the door.

Dean snapped the demon blade from his belt, holding it at his waist while the third demon came barreling at him. The stupid bastard didn’t even check for Dean’s weapon. Probably thought it was some ordinary knife. The man’s face fell open as red lightning crackled through its body. Blood pooled on the knife as Dean twisted it free from the demon’s gut. The body fell to his feet.

Sam was having a fist-fight with another demon. Without thinking, Dean threw the dagger across the room. It caught in the demon’s back. Sam snagged the handle, giving it a rough twist as he drew it back to slice the demon’s throat. Blood gushed onto his hands as lightning shook through the demon, and Sam quickly stepped back to avoid the falling body.

Cas reloaded his gun and let off a shot as another demon walked through the door. Dean jumped at the gunshot, and then lost his breath entirely. The air felt like it was caught in his throat by an invisible hand. Dean’s eyes fell to the doorway in time to see khaki pants, and a white collar shirt under a blue sweater vest. The outstretched hand clenched, and Dean felt his throat squeeze close.

His sidearm clattered to the floor as he tried to suck in a breath. The fingers felt like a noose around his neck. He blinked and forced himself to breathe. The feeling ebbed away, the noose loosened. Dean’s eyes snapped over to where he last saw Cas. The demon had gone after his match. Cas was pulling at his collar and holding his throat. He was gasping, wheezing, choking for air.

Dean swallowed as his vision grew dark. **_No_**.

Sam threw the knife with all he had.

Somehow, the bastard caught the blade between his fingertips before it could slice through his neck. The demon held it in his free hand, looking over the carvings in the blade and the handle with a careful eye.

“Oh, thanks Sam.” The demon cooed. It sent a shiver of disgust through Dean’s chest. “This will be most useful.”

Dean panicked as two other demons rushed into the room, heading straight for Sam. He was weaponless and powerless. Sam maybe got one punch before the two demons pinned him to the nearest support beam.

Cas was clutching at his neck again, and Dean struggled to suck in another breath. He could ignore it. It was Cas, not Dean. The bond was there though. Dean could feel him choking, losing his breath while his heart pounded frantically to keep him alive. But he had to push it back. If he didn’t, they were all going to die.

Sam managed to knock away the demons holding him captive. He lunged forward, reaching a hand out to the demon holding Cas hostage. The demon balked as Sammy’s demon-mojo slammed into him. Sam grunted, like the force backfired. The demon didn’t look hurt, just annoyed. It was just enough though, because Cas sucked in a grateful breath, and Dean was back on his feet.

“Well, well, well,” The demon mused, staring at Sam. “Aren’t you just full of surprises?!”

Sam stepped back, his hand falling away as he held his forehead in pain. The demon chuckled, taking a step toward Sam with his head tilted curiously. He sucked his teeth as Sam tried again, his hand shooting up as if to keep the old man at bay.

“Heh.” The demon coughed. “Don’t think you’ve got the juice there sonny!”

Dean shivered again. There was something about this demon. The way he talked, the way he held his head high and his shoulders squared as he stalked over to Sammy. The way he looked at Sam like he was a clean piece of marble to carve—as soon as the thought hit him, Dean shuddered.

No, it couldn’t be him.

The demon flicked his hand. Sam went flying, crashing into an old piano with a sickening crack. Cas caught his gaze, tossing him the shot gun while he made a lunge for the dagger.

Dean barely caught the gun, cocked it back and was about to shoot—straight into Cas’ chest.


	9. Run and Hide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((The self-harm tag I added for this chapter is out of caution. The self-harm is done by a character to protect others towards the end of the chapter and although it's not associated to depression or suicide in any way, I'm tagging it in case anyone reading this is sensitive to the imagery.))

**_Shit_** _._ Dean’s body jerked. He struggled to keep the shotgun pressed into his shoulder. Pure instinct was screaming in his mind, a broken record of _no no no_. The barrel of the gun in his hands was aimed straight at Castiel. His match was pinned against the demon’s chest, the blade of the demon knife pressed into the tan flesh of Castiel’s neck. Dean could see his matches’ pulse fluttering against the silver blade. **_SHIT_**.

“Dean…Dean…Dean…” The demon snickered as he held Cas tightly, one hand on his shoulder while the other held the knife to Cas’ throat. The voice rolled around in Dean’s head over and over, like an old mantra. The feeling of unease, anger and terror rose steadily the longer this demon looked at him with a wicked smile. He flashed the blade once while he kept it pressed against Castiel’s throat.

Dean nearly saw red. This was his _match_ held at knife point by a demon. Blood roared in his ears as his heart pounded. He felt the bond under his ribs thrum in warning, but he blocked it out. He needed to focus. One clear shot was all he needed really. If this demon slipped just once—

“We had worked past this Dean,” The demon chided roughly. “I thought you’d learned your lesson about being _attached_ like this Dean. Looks like I still have _so much_ to teach you.”

Castiel’s confusion shook away some of the red as he poured the sensation into the bond, cutting sharp through Dean’s blockade. Confusion and worry along with something that felt like barely contained anger washed over Dean. He shut it down with a hard swallow as the demon’s words rolled over in his mind again.

_We had worked past this. I still have so much to teach you._

**_My offer still stands Dean—_ **

No…it wasn’t possible.

**_You have so much potential._ **

No, no, it’s just couldn’t be!

 ** _So much you could learn_** …

 “Dean.” Cas barely whispered his name.

Dean didn’t hear it. He was fixated on the demon’s face. The man’s eyes rolled back into his head, as white as Lilith’s. Dean felt his lip curl into a snarl. His hands tightened around the barrel of the gun. Now he could see it, now Dean understood everything. A tremor shook under his skin the longer he stared at those bleach-white eyes. He knew those ghost eyes. He knew the lessons. He knew this demon. And he had Cas again.

“Yes, that’s right,” The demon had a crooked smile on his face now. “You gotta look past the meat suit. You remember me don’t you Dean? You remember what I taught you.”

“Alistair.” Dean ground out the name between his teeth. The shot gun trembled in his hands as Alistair gave out a pleased laugh.

“You were one of my most promising students.” Alistair admitted with that pleased proud smirk. “So you’ll know how this goes if you don’t hand over the girl. Right now.”

Cas sucked in a breath as the knife flicked at his neck. It was quick. Dean hardly felt the cut. But it was there. The blood was dark against Castiel’s skin, and it gleamed as it trickled along the knife and down Castiel’s neck. Dean couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. The sight of the blood coming from his match made something dangerous twitch in Dean’s mind.

 ** _You know what to do_** _,_ some part of him whispered. **_You know how to shoot. The gun is in your hand, take the shot!_**

No. He could hurt Cas.

**_Alistair has him. He’s already dead._ **

_No_! This wasn’t the same. This was real.

Alistair had Castiel pressed to his chest as a human shield. Dean couldn’t take the shot this time. Even if Dean aimed for Alistair’s head, the demon could move Castiel to block it. No. He couldn’t take the shot. He couldn’t do this. Not again.

Sam cut into his vision, at the edge of red and panic seeping into Dean’s gaze. Sam was behind Alistair, blood streaming down his face from a fresh cut over his eye. He hardly seemed phased by it as he reached a hand out to Alistair again. Maybe Dean was imagining the blood in Sam’s teeth as he grimaced.

Dean watched as Alistair groaned, his face twitched, his head jerking like a spirit flinching between realms. He lost his grip on Cas just enough that the hunter could drive his elbow into the demon’s gut. Alistair stumbled back further and Sam gave the demon another punch. Cas stumbled forward and Dean lowered the gun to catch his match in his arms.

“We need to get out of here.” Cas hissed with a hand pressed to his bleeding neck.

Dean’s gaze was still locked on Sam. His brother’s hand clenched as Alistair turned to face him. The demon groaned under the power Sam suddenly held over him, unable to do anything more than glare. Dean stepped back as Sam managed a few steps away from Alistair.

“I can’t hold him for much longer.” Sam gritted through his teeth. Fresh blood oozed out his nose. He pressed his free hand to his forehead as he grimaced.

Jo and Sarah.

Dean spared a glance towards the closet where he last saw the girls. He nearly sighed in relief when he saw it empty. The only problem now, was Alistair. He stood between them and the door. And Sammy was starting to look pale.

“The window.” Cas muttered.

Dean turned sharply to stare at the colorful-stained glass window. Cas couldn’t be serious. They were a full story high at least.

“We’ll survive.” Cas promised when Dean turned his wide gaze back to him.

“Fuck.” Dean swore when Sam nodded in agreement. So they bolted for the window and crashed through the stained glass.

 

 

\----------------------------

 

 

“Damn it Cas! That _hurt!_ ”

“Then _don’t_ move.” Cas’ voice rumbled low in his chest, a firm command that Dean couldn’t ignore. Dean fisted the bloodied sheets beneath him. He gave up trying to keep the bed clean five minutes ago. Now he was trying to keep his breathing under control while Cas pushed a needle into his skin at his side.

As Cas promised, the jump out of two-story window didn’t kill them. But Dean had three huge gashes that needed stitches, Sam dislocated his shoulder again, and Cas was down a hand. They were pretty sure he broke something, but Cas hadn’t figured if it was his fingers, his wrist, or his forearm; everything from the elbow down was numb and wrapped tightly against Castiel’s chest. He’d done that first on the car ride over, tearing part of his undershirt to make a sling.

Dean had reset Sam’s shoulder once they were back in the room, and when Cas had seen the thick blood stains seeping through Dean’s shirt, he’d forced Dean onto the bed with murder in his eyes. 

“Where’s the whiskey?” Dean grumbled as he forced his breath through his nose. Sam dropped the hand towel full of ice from his shoulder to pass over the handle of alcohol. Dean snatched it without moving while Cas worked. He took a long, heavy sip, thankful for the burn in his mouth and throat that distracted him from the sharp sting in his side.

“Pour some on the gash.” Cas ordered.

Dean clenched his jaw. What he wouldn’t give for something to bite down on other than his lip. It felt sore and tasted bloody. Cas was staring at him with the needle posed in his blood-stained fingers, pointing towards the stitched up wound in his waist. The image made Dean shiver.

“ _Fuck_.” Dean groaned, tipping the bottle before he could think twice about it. He winced, gritting his teeth as the gash flared hotly.

 ** _Like red and blue flames liking up his side_**.

Dean blew out a breath quickly as he shook the thought away. He took another swig from the bottle while Cas pressed a towel to Dean’s waist.

“Hold that.” Cas muttered. “Any others?”

“Yea.” Dean swallowed the mouthful of whiskey.  “On my shoulder and back.” He rolled off his shirt, which was shredded from the glass shards and covered in blood anyway. “We oughtta burn all this.”

“Later.” Cas muttered, steering Dean to lay back on his stomach gingerly, giving Cas open access to the gashes and cuts on his back. Dean felt Cas press the needle into his skin beneath his shoulder blade and he tried to keep his groan to himself. “Shit. There’s glass in the wound. Sam, I’ll need your help. You’ve got both hands.”

Dean tossed a glare over at his brother. Anger swelled in his chest at the image of Sam using his powers on Alistair. Dean knew he’d said something about the demon at the hospital too. Even before Ruby told him to use demon-mojo, Sam had done it anyway. There was another thing—how did Ruby know about Sam’s powers? The feeling in his gut told him Ruby probably knew the whole damn time. The weight of that fact sunk in Dean’s stomach, but Cas was shoving him back into the bed.

“Let him help.” Castiel all but growled. “We can be pissed that he lied to us in a minute.”

Dean didn’t need to see the glare in Cas’ eyes. Half the anger, betrayal and confusion rolling in his chest were coming in waves from Cas. It didn’t mix well with the sting in his side from his gashes or the throb in his hand since Cas’ arm was numb.

“This is why I didn’t tell you about her.” Sam muttered quietly, but whether it was a half apology to him or Cas, Dean wasn’t sure. Sam had lied to both of them.

The bed shifted as Sam kneeled next to him and Dean tucked his face into his arms. He closed his eyes, biting into the sheets under him when Sam started picking through his skin in order to get at the shards of glass. Pain tore through him and—

 

**_Blood._ **

**_There were thick blotches of dark red and black running down his arms. It dripped down his face, into his eyes, his nose, down his chin. It was in his mouth. Liquid iron coated his tongue and his teeth. It felt thick in his throat. It was in his lungs, he was choking on it. It just kept coming._ **

**_Every time there was a lance of pain, the slice of a knife, the biting of teeth, the tearing of flesh there was more red, more black. His throat burned with the screams he was trying to let out against the black and red he swallowed with each breath._ **

**_He couldn’t stand this anymore._ **

**_He couldn’t breathe._ **

**_He couldn’t scream._ **

**_He was on fire. He was burning. He was dying. His body had been torn apart so many times he’d lost count. And it was happening again. He ached._ **

**_His skin was sliced and diced. He felt the pull as his skin was carved off his bones. Blood ran down his arms, his chest, his legs, making him stick to his rack. Laughter ran in his ears. No. No he couldn’t do it anymore. It had to stop. He had to make them stop._ **

**_Please…don’t—_ **

 

“Dean?”

 

**_Sam, stop…please—_ **

 

“Dean!” Sam’s voice shattered the images.

There were hands holding his shoulder, warm against clammy skin. Dean was shaking. He sucked in a breath. The tremors were weak at the moment but the images were still flashing in his mind.

Dean snapped his eyes open. His chest felt heavy. The anger wasn’t gone, but there was something else strumming along the bond between him and Cas. Was it fear? Dean couldn’t tell. It left a bad taste in his mouth though, like something metallic and peppery. Dean swallowed the taste as he turned his head to see Cas.

His match wasn’t staring at him. Instead, those stormy blue eyes were hard and focused on stitching Dean’s skin back together again. Dean couldn’t feel the pricks. His body was shaking, his fingers felt numb. The pain was there but it melted into the panic slowly taking over.

“Give him the whiskey.” Cas ordered after Sam cut the floss.

“We done?” Dean ground out. He flexed his fingers slowly, working out the stiffness of clutching the bed sheets so tightly.  

“Yes.” Cas answered. “You’ll have to be careful with this shoulder. The dental floss can tear easily.”

“It’ll hold till we get back to Bobby’s.” Dean muttered, wincing at how sore his throat felt. Sam was holding the whiskey bottle up, and Dean snatched it once he was sitting enough to swallow half a shot’s worth. “We gotta find the girls.”

“Jo managed to get away with Sarah and Ruby.” Sam muttered. “I’ll give her a call.”

“Just so we’re crystal clear,” Castiel snapped before Sam could reach for his phone. “This is the same Ruby who came barging into our room to tell us about Lilith, and how she held Dean’s contract? The same Ruby who failed to get Dean out of his deal, and instead sent us straight into a trap that sent him to Hell five months early?” Castiel asked, his words precise and his gaze like ice as they flickered from Sam to Dean.  

“Yes.” Sam murmured.

“Then tell me this Sam, why _the fuck_ do you trust her?” Cas nearly shouted.

Dean tipped back the whisky to swallow the anger that rose in his throat. Cas was worked up enough for the both of them. Or maybe because of the bond, it was a vicious cycle. Dean was mad, Cas was furious, together they were beyond pissed. The alcohol burned down his throat, keeping Dean silent while Castiel fumed in front of his brother.

“Because she saved my life.” Sam spoke quietly. He wasn’t angry. Never mind the fact that Castiel was now standing over him while he sat on the bed, or that Cas was yelling. Dean couldn’t remember any time these two had fought.

Sam sighed heavily as Cas stepped back in utter confusion. He moved from sitting on the bed near Dean, to back at the table against the wall, putting the makeshift-ice pack onto his sore shoulder. He wouldn’t look at Cas, or Dean. Instead, he stared at the ceiling.

“She could have killed me but she didn’t.” Sam continued. “I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for her.”

“And why is that again?” Dean spoke up before Cas could bark out his anger. “Oh, right, because you left. Cas stayed with Bobby, and you could have too—”

“No, I couldn’t.” Sam whispered.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Bull shit you couldn’t—”

“You were dead!” Sam cut him off.

Dean recoiled at his brother’s shout, his fist closing around the bloodied sheets. Sam rolled his lips. He blinked a few times, as he stared between the floor and Dean.

“You were dead, Dean.” Sam clutched the ice tighter to his shoulder. When he looked up again, Dean could see how glassy his eyes were. “We had to bury your body. I…I had to dig your grave. And that screwed me up Dean. It fucked with Cas more than me, I know it did, and I know leaving didn’t help. There’s not a _damn_ _day_ that I don’t feel worthless for it.” Sam’s voice shook and his eyes grew red as he spoke.

Dean could feel Cas shuddering at the memory as Sam talked. His anger was still simmering in his chest though. Dean could feel it vibrating through their bond. Sam wasn’t out of the woods yet.

“Back then, all I could see was an empty house. It didn’t matter that Bobby and Cas, or Ellen, Ash and Jo were there. You weren’t.” Sam’s voice wavered as he dropped his gaze. Dean knew he’d start bawling soon if he didn’t stop talking and pull himself together. Dean bit his tongue as Sam shook his head. “I couldn’t stand it.”

Silence fell between the three of them. Dean took another heavy swig of the whiskey and leaned forward to slam it on the table near Sam. It made Sam jolt in his chair.

“I’m back.” Dean stated. “I’ve been back for months. You didn’t need to keep Ruby from us. Call Jo, we need to peel out of town. ASAP.”

“That demon let us go, Dean.” Castiel muttered tightly. “He most likely had us followed here in hopes that we’d lead them to Sarah. And you know it.” Cas added sharply.

Dean swallowed the rest of his words as those dark blue eyes turned to glare at him now. Fuck. Dean was not ready to have that conversation, especially not with Sam in the room.

“You really think he let us go?” Dean wondered, keeping the bite out of his voice. It was a lie, for Sam. Of course Alistair had let them go. That’s what Alistair did. He toyed with his humans until he got what he wanted.

“He was strong,” Sam agreed. He was staring at his hand in his lap, and he missed the exchange between them. “He could have kept us in the attic, no matter how hard I tried to hold him. Ruby got them out during the fighting, so he needs us to get to her.”

“Then we can’t leave.” Castiel muttered. “Or we risk leading them to Sarah.”

“We can’t stay either.” Dean pointed out. “Those demons could come knocking down our door any second.”

“For what?” Sam asked. “They know we’re sitting ducks here. If that bastard gave them orders to follow, that’s what they’re gonna do. Let’s just call Jo, and find out where Ruby hid them.”

Castiel snatched the bottle of whiskey from the table, tipping the bottle back to take a sloppy sip. He brushed his thumb over his chin with a stiff nod. “Call her.” Castiel ordered.

Sam winced as he dropped the towel of ice in favor for his phone. He dialed Jo’s number, placing the phone on speaker while it rang, and rang, and rang.

“Damn it Jo, pick up.” Dean muttered as he held his side gingerly.

The phone cut to voice mail and Sam hung up quickly. “Ruby will find a way to get to us.” Sam promised.

“There you go again,” Dean chuckled dryly. “Putting all your faith and trust in a demon.”

“She won’t hurt Sarah.” Sam told him.

“I only believe that because Jo is with her.” Dean said. He reached forward to grab the whiskey from Cas, leaning back onto the bed gingerly as he took a sip.

“As long as we’re just sitting here with a target on our backs,” Cas muttered, pulling the bottle away from Dean as he collapsed into the second chair in front of Sam. “I want to know how Ruby returned. I want to know how you knew about her—” Cas’ gaze darted to Dean and he swore silently. So Cas had noticed back at the church too. “And I want to know how you have these powers. If Dean isn’t going to ask you about it, then I am. Because you didn’t just lie to him, you lied to me. _For_ _months._ ” Cas emphasized the last bit.

Dean saw how his brother’s shoulders went from being tense under pressure, to sagging with guilt in less than two seconds under Castiel’s gaze. Dean tried to remember that he was supposed to be angry at his brother and not interested in his match’s impressive interrogation skills.

“You’re not going to like it,” Sam murmured. “But fine.”

Dean snatched the whiskey as soon as he could, taking a healthy gulp while Sam took a deep breath.

“We had just buried you,” Sam started, glancing at Dean. “Outside Pontiac, not far. We had to pass the city on our way back to Bobby’s. We didn’t know yet how we were gonna get you back. But neither of us could stand the thought of giving you a hunter’s funeral like Bobby said we should.”

“Can we skip to the part where Ruby comes in?” Castiel ground through his teeth. He was tense in his chair, his good hand fisted on his knee.

“About a week after that, I took off.” Sam muttered. “It was the first night Cas was completely drunk. Bobby wasn’t in any great shape. I told myself I needed some air. Drove for a full day. Didn’t stop till the car nearly ran out of gas. Crashed for a night, then took off again. Caught wind of a few cases, tried to work, and for a little while that helped. Three weeks went by like that.” Sam took a small breathe, wincing as he pressed the cloth of ice back into his sore shoulder. “I started digging into research on Hell, demons, hounds, ways in, ways out. I tore through as many books as I could get my hands on in a month. Every single one of them said no one could get into Hell unless they were damned.”

Castiel pulled the whiskey from Dean’s fingers and passed it across the table. Sam stared at the amber liquid. He nodded stiffly before tipping the bottle back to his lips. Dean chewed his tongue, waiting patiently for Sam to continue with the story. So far, it wasn’t so bad. Dean was irked that Sam had just left Cas and Bobby behind, but there wasn’t much to do about that now.

Sam rolled his lips as he set the bottle back down on his knee. “So, things felt pretty hopeless. I didn’t want to go back to Bobby’s. I knew Cas might be there, and I felt like if I went home then I’d be going back empty handed. I had no reason to leave in the first place. I was a mess.” Sam’s hand twitched as it held the washcloth of ice to his shoulder. Dean narrowed his eyes.

“That’s when you picked up the bottle.” Dean figured. Sam lowered his gaze to the whisky still in his hand. His brother sighed and took another sip. “Never seen you down whiskey that easy.”

“Yea. Not my proudest moment.” Sam agreed gingerly, putting the alcohol down on the table. “Got drunk enough that going to a cross-road made sense. I thought, since Lilith wanted me dead, she wouldn’t mind us trading places—”

Dean’s jaw snapped open as his blood ran cold. “Sam are you—”

“Relax. I’m still aren’t I?” Sam cut Dean off with a glare. “I was drunk, but the demon wouldn’t deal. They said you were right where they wanted you, and our hunting days were over. So, win-win for the demons. I panicked after that. I forget what the demon said, but it was something about you.” He glanced over at Cas, who was staring at the bottle like he could shatter the glass container if he glared hard enough at it. “I remember calling you that night, saying I was coming home.”

Castiel nodded slowly. “That was in the middle of June.” Castiel remembered. “I hadn’t heard from you in nearly two months.”

“Okay, so why didn’t you book it back to Bobby’s after that?” Dean wanted to know, snatching the bottle from the table.

“That’s when Ruby comes in.” Sam said quietly. Castiel held out his hand silently to Dean for the bottle but Dean didn’t hand it over right away. “There were demons waiting for me when I got back to my room that night. At least four of them. Ruby was there. She betrayed all of them, killed them before anyone could smoke out and report back to Lilith.”

“Why?” Castiel asked, snatching the bottle from Dean and taking a quick swig.

“To save me, I guess.” Sam said with a shrug.

“No, I understand that.” Castiel waved his hand as he held the neck of the whiskey bottle. “I want to know why she saved you. As far as I’m concerned she betrayed us all—”

“Cas, she didn’t know it would be a trap Lilith set for us.” Sam protested.

“Okay enough.” Dean growled, because this was an argument they didn’t need to have right now. “We’re not playing Judge Judy here. So she saved your skin once and I’ll ask again, why didn’t you go back to Bobby’s?”

Sam swallowed thickly, falling quiet under Dean’s shout. He put down the damp washcloth and made a reach for the bottle. Cas took a swig before handing it over. Dean blew out a short breath. If they kept this up, they were going to need another bottle to get through the night.

“Ruby told me of a way to take out Lilith.” Sam explained. “The night we tried to kill her, turns out she didn’t die. She flashed out of her host, and went into hiding. This whole time she’s been raising an army. I didn’t lie about that.” He added forcefully. Castiel nodded as Sam set the bottle down on the table. “Ruby told me that the visions I had were just the tip of the iceberg. She told me I could do more. Even take out Lilith. So, I agreed to let her train me.”

“Train you how?” Dean wondered.

Sam shifted in his seat. He made a reach for the whiskey, but Castiel was faster despite being down a hand.

“Sam.” Castiel warned. His voice was deep, and the thin line of his lips meant this wasn’t up for debate. Sam had to answer the question. Just from the way Sam shifted in his seat, Dean felt his gut twist into a knot. When Sam glanced up to catch his eye, hazel dark and the beginnings of a puppy-dog look starting, Dean knew.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean whispered. Sam pursed his lips. “I was right. Wasn’t I? Ruby gave you her blood to jump start your powers again. Only this time they had a bigger kick didn’t they?” Dean felt the words tumble out of his mouth. He knew they were sour and sharp because Sam hung his head in shame, and Castiel stared between them with that cold gaze.

Silently, Castiel handed over the whiskey bottle. This time, Sam refused. He shook his head gently, so Castiel took the sip himself and passed it along to Dean.

“Sam, there’s one thing I’m finding incredibly difficult to understand at the moment.” Castiel mused, his gaze flickering across the cheap motel rug.

“Only one thing?” Dean muttered into the neck of the whiskey.

“How does a former Stanford University student ever think that consuming demon blood is a suitable course of action?” Castiel stood up as he spoke, taking two steps away from the table before turning around sharply. “How did that even cross your mind as a good thing? How _the fuck_ could you let her do this to you Sam?”

The expressions changed on Cas’ face so quickly, Dean almost couldn’t keep up with his match. There was confusion, so much confusion that it was starting to make Dean dizzy. But there was also betrayal, hot and thick in his words and in his eyes. It was strong enough that it wound around Dean’s heart and squeezed painfully. Cas glared at Sam like he didn’t recognize the man sitting at the table, his gaze searching for an answer that Sam didn’t give right away.

Sam continued to stare at his hands in his lap. He rolled his lips, taking a slow breath as he picked his head up, steadily meeting Cas’ gaze and Dean’s.

“Yea,” Sam admitted with a slow nod. “I knew it wasn’t going to be perfect, or easy, but you know what? It was something. When I came back to help you find a way into Hell, after you tore through that first demon when we ran out of books to read, I knew we were running out of options Cas.” Sam told him as a worried frown marred his brow. “And every time I left to work with Ruby, she reminded me that Lilith was still out there! You blamed Ruby for getting us trapped in that neighborhood, but it was Lilith who sent the hounds after Dean! I wanted the bitch dead for what she did! And this was how I could do it!”

“Once again,” Dean raised his arm to get their attention, trying to defuse the rising anger he could hear in Sam’s voice. “I am right fucking here!”

Sam blinked, tearing his gaze away from Cas as his shoulders fell. Cas swore under his breath, running his good hand through his hair as he paced across the motel towards their tiny bathroom.

“I know Dean.” Sam murmured. “I’m just telling you how things happened. I trained with Ruby for about six weeks and we caught wind that Lilith was gonna be topside for a while. Ruby knew I wasn’t ready but I wouldn’t listen.”

“Shocker.” Dean muttered. “So you thought you could take out Lilith by yourself, am I right?” Dean asked, his voice thick. “Even when the three of us combined couldn’t do it, you thought you could?”

Sam nodded slowly, his eyes growing distant as he stared at Dean’s blood soaked bed. “I didn’t care that I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to waste any more time trying to get stronger. I couldn’t live with the fact that Lilith was around while you were in Hell.” Sam shook his head slowly. “I went after her. I nearly died and Ruby saved me again. She got there just before one of Lilith’s henchmen could kill me off.”

Silently, Sam lifted his shirt, revealing a few thick scars that criss-crossed over his ribcage on his left side. The sight stirred something old in Dean’s mind and he held the bottle of whiskey a little tighter in his hands. Cas had gone after a deadly demon on his own because he couldn’t get a hold of Sammy. Sam had gone after Lilith because he didn’t want Cas to die and give up on Dean. They were both idiots that nearly got themselves killed.

“You two fuckers are gonna be the next death of me.” Dean swore. He picked up the bottle of whiskey and took another small sip. “I’m guessing those took some time to heal. You didn’t talk to Cas for a while after that huh?”

Sam nodded in agreement. “I was out for about a week. Ruby took care of me. I realized it was gonna take me a lot longer to get strong enough to take down Lilith, so I went back home. Helped Cas and Bobby when I could, hunted, kept training with Ruby.”

“Uh-huh.” Dean murmured. Anger rolled through his system again at the mention of the demon, and it was followed by Cas joining them from the bathroom again. Well, Dean could at least say he understood why Sam kept Ruby a secret from Cas. The hunter blamed her for Dean’s premature death. The anger and hatred rolled off him was so powerful, Dean had a feeling Sam could sense it from across the room. At the least, it was written clear across Castiel’s face.

“I still do not trust her.” Castiel told them both. “So far, you’ve only told us a story about a demon who’s helping you whenever you get to your lowest point. Why didn’t she come and help us find a way to break Dean out of Hell?”

“She knew there wasn’t a way to get him out.” Sam muttered. “She told me so whenever I left her to come help you. I didn’t want to believe her.”

“And what about the demons that were helping Lilith?” Cas countered. “Half the time we had Ash tracking them.”

“Sometimes, the names I had Ash tracking were ones that Ruby gave me.” Sam admitted with a slight wince. “And sometimes the demons I came back with were ones that Ruby had tied up so I could…practice.”

“To practice exorcising or practice torturing?” Dean asked sharply.

“Both.” Sam only answered after Dean picked his head up from staring down the neck of the bottle. “Most of the time though, I brought them back for Cas.”

That thought still didn’t sit right in Dean’s stomach. He took a longer swig from the bottle and slid it onto the table. He could only watch Cas as his match fumed silently, pacing around the motel room and unable to look at either brother or sit down. Dean glanced at his brother.

There was nothing but sincere honesty in Sam’s face now. Dean blew out a breath roughly. Sometimes Sam could be a convincing liar, but right now wasn’t one of those times.

“Anything else?” Dean wondered tightly, almost afraid of whatever answer he might get.

“No.” Sam promised with a strong shake of his head. “Ruby is on our side. She wants to take down Lilith. She can help us.”

“We are not working with Ruby.” Castiel stated vehemently. “I don’t care what she’s done or how you think she’s helped. She’s a demon, Sam. You can’t trust them.”

The sharp knock on the door jolted Sam from answering, and had Castiel gingerly reaching for the knife under his shirt. Since Dean was the only one with two working hands, he stood stiffly from the bed to grab the shotgun near the door.

“House Keeping!” A woman on the other side of the door called.

Sam relaxed a notch in his seat. Castiel rolled his eyes and lowered his hand back to his side. Dean, however, kept a hold on his shotgun as he walked closer to the door.

“Not right now.” Dean said.

“I have clean towels. Sure you boys could use them right about now. I bet there’s blood everywhere.” The voice called. Sam perked at the words, and when Dean glanced over his shoulder, Castiel was frowning at the wooden door.

“How—?” He whispered.

“It’s Ruby.” Sam muttered. “Dean, open the door.”

Reluctantly, Dean slid the lock across the wall and turned the knob. The uniformed woman came in with a small trolley, kicking the door shut roughly behind her. She glared at Dean, then Castiel and Sam in turn while she walked to the windows to draw the thicker curtains shut.

“We don’t have time.” The maid said, handing over a slip of paper to Sam. “This is the address. Jo and Sarah are there keeping watch until I get back. You’ve got about five minutes until my hex wears off on the brutes outside. Go out that window, grab the cars, and haul ass.”

“So it is Ruby.” Dean figured as Sam stared at the piece of paper in his hands.

The maid spun on her heels, death in her gaze. “Did you not hear the part about only having five minutes?” Ruby snapped. “Otherwise you can leave your precious car here.”

“Let’s go.” Sam muttered with a stiff nod. Ruby smiled before smoking out of the maid who collapsed back into Dean’s arms.

 

 

************

 

 

“Hear anything?” Jo wondered quietly.

For the past two minutes, Sarah had her head tilted up wards curiously and she stared blankly at the wall with old, peeling wallpaper. “No, not much.” Sarah admitted, blinking a few times then squinting hard at the wallpaper. “There are whispers, but I can’t make anything out.”

“All right, well, don’t strain yourself.” Jo muttered. The girl looked like she was trying to make the wallpaper peel faster just by glaring at it.

There was a shuddering gasp from outside the room, and Jo clutched the shotgun tighter in her hands. Sarah held her breath until the figure in the doorway stepped into the single light of Jo’s flashlight. It was Ruby, back her in petite brunette outfit. Jo let out a soft breath.

“They’re on the way.” Ruby told them. “Shouldn’t be too long.”

“Good.” Jo snipped, keeping her shotgun across her lap. She was the only thing standing between Sarah and the bedroom doorway of this ramshackle house. How Ruby had found this place, Jo didn’t know. But it was on the edge of town, tucked along an over-grown road. No one would give the place a second thought. Jo’s flashlight was resting on the floor in the corner near the door, and was the only source of light in the room.

Ruby didn’t say anything else. She merely stood at the doorway, arms crossed over her chest while she watched the rest of the house. Jo spared a glance back at Sarah, trying to smile in reassurance. Sarah simply nodded, as if to say that she was okay. But Jo could see how tightly she was clutching the edges of her jacket to keep her hands from trembling.

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine.” Jo said quietly. “Believe it or not, this is another day at the rodeo for some of us.”

That earned Jo a more confident smile when Sarah looked up at her again. “You do this a lot?” She asked timidly.

Jo nodded. “Yea. I know a thing or two about hunting monsters and demons.” Jo explained, her gaze flickering to Ruby for a second. “Been hunting for about seven years now.” Jo explained. “Mostly with my Mom. But sometimes I’ll sneak in a job or two on my own.”

“Is hunting always a family business or something?” Sarah asked with a nervous laugh. “Dean and Sam are brothers.” She added when Jo raised an eyebrow curiously.

“Huh. Never really thought about it that way.” Jo admitted with a soft chuckle. “But yea, I guess you’re right. A family business.”

“Blonde, zip it.” Ruby snapped over her shoulder. Jo was about to shout something back, but the words died in her throat. Ruby wasn’t standing in the hallway anymore. She was inside the room, pressing her back flush against the wall while she watched the front door, and her whole body was ridged down to her hands clenched into fists at her side. Whatever she was watching outside was making her nervous.

Jo kept her gun clutched tightly in her hand, shifting her weight on the floor so she could stand quickly if she needed. Her breath caught in her throat when Ruby ducked into the shadows, as light from outside flickered into the house. Jo could hear the hum of a car, but Jo relaxed as another loader hum followed it. That was the Impala, and even Ruby relaxed when she heard the engine outside the house.

“That’s the boys.” Jo promised, since Sarah looked a little pale from where she was sitting. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” Jo offered her hand down to Sarah as she stood. The girl nodded eagerly and quickly followed Jo out of the house. The front porch floorboards creaked under their boots.

 “Took you long enough.” Jo called as Dean stepped out from the Impala. Her breath fogged in front of her face, and Sarah shivered next to her in the early winter night. “I got a bone to pick with you Winchester.” Jo added, holding up her shotgun in mock warning. Sarah followed her, keeping close to her side while Ruby went to check on Sam.

“Since when are we working with demons?” Jo hissed quietly, trying not to side glance when she noticed Ruby brushing a strand of hair from Sam’s face. “And seriously? What took ya?”

“It’s a long story.” Dean muttered tiredly. “Short version, Sam’s on her team, and we jumped out a window. Where’s your phone? We tried calling you.”

“Ruby told me to ditch it. Said demons could track the signal.” Jo’s gaze raked over Dean quickly. He was favoring a shoulder, his bad knee was acting up again, and why was his hand twitching? Jo quickly glanced over Castiel, taking in the sling under his coat, the cuts along his face and neck, and tried not to wince. “You two look like shit.”

“It could be worse.” Castiel muttered. He gave a stiff nod towards the Impala. “Sam and Ruby are going to follow us in your car.”

“Yea. Fine.” Jo murmured, sensing this was the end of the conversation until they were safe on the road. Silently, Jo tossed their bags and her gun into the trunk before sliding into the back seat with Sarah.

Dean wasted no time in revving up the engine and tearing down the roads until they reached the highway taking them back to Sioux Falls. Cas was quiet as the Impala revved over asphalt. He kept his eyes out the window despite the fact that it was the dead of night out there with nothing to see. Dean rolled his fingers against the steering wheel, testing the range of his shoulder and waist as he tried to lift his hand.

They drove in completely silence for another five minutes. Jo figured Dean was going to pop in a cassette tape any minute now, so she spoke up quickly.

“You guys wanna tell me what happened back there?” Jo asked.

There was another beat of silence. Jo caught Dean’s gaze through the rear-view mirror, but he looked away in the following moment, turning his eyes back on the road. Castiel sighed deeply in the passenger seat.

“Sam has been working with Ruby for the past eight months.” Castiel muttered, his breath fogging up against the window.

“Doing what?” Jo wondered gingerly. Dean tensed, glancing at Castiel wearingly.

“Trying to take down Lilith.” Castiel answered without catching Dean’s eye.

 “Lilith’s the one trying to break the devil out of the cage right?” Jo asked.

“Yes.” Sarah answered weakly. “And she’s winning.”

“Cheery.” Jo sighed when the boys remained quiet in the front seat.

“Oh and for the record, thank you.” Sarah said just as the silence was starting to grow in the car again. They passed the county line, and Dean glanced up to see Sarah relax twenty degrees into the leather seat. “Everyone else thought I was going crazy. But you guys believed me.”

“It’s what we do.” Dean answered with a stiff smile on his face.

“That’s what I keep hearing.” Sarah chuckled, looking between the duo in the front seat. “I mean, the Angels talk about you so much, I figured you guys were important. Jo told me about hunting. Guess that practically makes you guys heroes huh?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Jo teased, hoping to lighten the mood the cabin. “Well, maybe for me and Cas. We’ve got the most experience. But not Dean or Sam, they’re still in training if you ask me.”

Sarah chuckled at that thought. “Either way, you guys risked your lives to save me. You’re keeping me away from demons that want to take me…I don’t even wanna know where.” Sarah let out a nervous laugh then, tucking a stray curl behind her ear as she stared down into her lap. “You know, that sounds like a couple of heroes to me.” Sarah smiled quietly, and Jo gave her the same smile in return.

They drove in silence the rest of the way.

 

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

 

Understandably, Bobby wasn’t happy when they showed up at his doorsteps at six in the morning, battered, broken, and bringing a demon into the house. He was extra cranky when he heard Sam call her Ruby, and downright pissed that Castiel managed to fracture his arm. He wouldn’t let them get any rest, barking for Dean to take Cas down to the 24 hour-clinic for a cast (and to have his sutures check while he was at it), only to turn on Sam for bringing a demon into the house when there were other demons after Sarah. To Jo, he tried to smile and thanked her for going along with these idijts in the first place.

“Alright I’ll take her down to the panic room,” Sam reasoned. “Safest place in the house right?”

“Damn right it is.” Bobby grumbled. “Watch your step princess.” Bobby barked at Ruby, halting her tracks from stepping into the living room. His eyes darted down to the rug that covered the floor. “I aint bustin’ up my good wood floor for your sorry ass. Stay outside the damn rug.”

Ruby held up her hands in soft surrender, opting to lean in the door ways instead of crossing the room. Sam shrugged gently when Ruby glanced at him, turning to Sarah instead with an outreached hand.

“Come on,” Sam said. “There’s a spare bed in the room downstairs.”

“There is?” Jo wondered curiously.

Sarah yawned next to her, and she let her hand slip into Sam’s so he could lead her out onto the porch and around to the cellar. Jo followed distantly with Ruby as Sam opened the door and walked down the steps.

As Sam clicked on a light, Jo whistled. That seemed to wake Sarah a few notches.  

“Whoa. Could you have any more guns?” Sarah wondered, eyeing the mini arsenal that lined the right-hand wall of the cellar.

“Probably. We’re trying to get Bobby to stop buying in bulk.” Sam teased.

“Good luck with that one.” Jo chuckled as her eyes roamed around the room. “Old habits die hard.”

“Makes sense though. I heard all the gun shots when you guys were fighting in the Church before Ruby and Jo got me out.” Sarah explained, wandering away from the guns as Sam skirted past the bookshelves. “Guess you don’t meet a lot of friendly monsters.”

“I would be their first.” Ruby bragged, sitting on the top of the cellar stairs. That was as far as she could go, since there was another devil’s trap painted in white at the bottom of the stairway.

“Jury’s still out on that one.” Jo snipped back, which made Sarah chuckle. Sam seemed a little put out, but he didn’t say anything. Sarah’s gaze wandered to the five other book shelves tucked into the room.

“Wow. Some of these books are really old.” She commented, her fingers tracing along spines that were cracked with lines and starting to peel. 

“Feel free to help yourself if you find anything interesting.” Sam offered. “We’re gonna be here for a while.” Sam explained before shoving aside the secret shelf and yanking open the heavy iron door. Sarah watched as the room revealed itself with wide eyes, and a hint of a smile appeared when Sam clicked on the panic room’s light.

“Okay,” Jo said, chuckling in awe. “That’s cool.”

“The walls are casted iron furnished with salt. Keeps away all the bad ghosts and spirits.” Sam spoke up again when Sarah stepped inside and ran her fingers along the edges of the wall. As her gaze fell to the floor, and then the ceiling, Sam continued. “The warding keeps out the demons.”

“Which is just a little bit racistdon’t you think?” Ruby wondered.

“Bobby’s house, Bobby’s rules.” Sam shrugged.

"Plus it’ll keep her safe.” Jo added. “I mean, there are demons hunting her remember.” Jo glared over her shoulder at the demon on the steps. Ruby merely rolled her eyes and pressed her chin into her palms.

“Uh, Sam…” Sarah’s voice called from the panic room. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, but her head was tilted up towards the fan. Her eyes were distant, and after a few seconds her mouth fell open. “The—the Angels are looking for me. They know you found me. They’re sending someone to…retrieve me.”

Sam waited until Sarah blinked and turned her head away from the ceiling to step into the room. He kneeled in front of the cot as Sarah caught her breath.

“Wh—why do the Angels want me?” Panic crept into her voice as the words echoed back from the walls. “Do you think they know I can hear them?” She whispered, fear bright in her eyes as she grasped at Sam’s shoulder.

“Hey hey, it’s okay.” Sam promised, covering her hand with his own and keeping back the wince as her thumb brushed over his mark. “Maybe yea. Maybe they know about you, but we’re not going to let them take you. We won’t let them okay?”

“Hey! Come help me upstairs!” Ruby shouted from the stairwell. “I’ve got something that can keep us off Angel Radar but we gotta do it quick!”

“I’ll go.” Jo offered. “Should probably put some distance between you and the black eyes yea?” Jo figured. Sam huffed a breath but nodded gently.

“It’s okay.” Sarah sighed. “So long as I’m in the room I’m safe right?” Sarah asked.

“Completely. Demons can’t even get down here. You saw that.” Sam agreed with a nod.

Sarah nodded and squeezed Sam’s shoulder gently. “I’ll be okay then.” Sarah said, drawing her hand away quickly and watching the duo dart back out of the cellar.

 

 

******

 

 

“Dean?” Annie’s voice near his shoulder made Dean jump out of his chair in surprise.

“Christ Annie can’t you freaking Angels make a little noise?” Dean growled, suppressing a wince as his side pulled against his stitches.

“You prayed to me?” Annie questioned slowly. Her voice was cautious despite the timid smile on her face. “This is good, Dean. Prayer is a sign of faith.”

“Yea, don’t flatter yourself. I thought it’d be the only way to get a hold of you.” Dean muttered as he stretched gently. His back was sore from sitting in the Impala for six hours, and a shitty plastic-ER waiting room chair for the past hour and a half.  His shoulder throbbed, his arm still felt a little numb from Cas’ break and his side kept catching painfully against his shirt.

Annie’s gaze flickered over him, as if sensing his discomfort. Dean rolled his eyes and waved a hand to brush away her concern. “I’ll live. I called about Cas. Idiot broke his arm, and I heard Angels have healing mojo right? I mean, you yanked me outta the pit without so much as a scrape. Almost.” Dean added, remembering the hand-print on his back and the scar in his mark

Annie followed his gaze over her shoulder to see Castiel in the room across the hall. He was talking with a physician about the x-rays of his wrist, and how they were going to cast it so the break would heal properly. Annie nodded like Dean was reporting to her, and her eyes were questioning as they scanned him quickly, obviously noticing the way Dean clutched his side.

“A minor fraction. He should heal within the next few weeks.” Annie explained, as if she were the doctor talking to Cas.

“We don’t have a few weeks.” Dean told her. “You said it yourself. There’s a war going on, and you need us in fighting shape. Cas is your best hunter who is willing to consider you as allies, so you owe it to him. If you’re feeling generous, I’ve got an uncle who spent his whole life hunting who’d love to walk again.”

Annie tilted her head, as if considering this for a moment. She took a deep breath. “I will heal Castiel,” Annie spoke on her exhale, turning away from the room to look at Dean. “I would need to see your uncle in order to heal him. And then we must talk.”

Dean nodded in agreement. He waited in the hallway while Annie stepped inside once the doctor left. Silently, she pressed two fingers to Cas’ forehead. He closed his eyes, and Dean felt something ripple through their bond before Annie pulled away. Cas leaned forward, clutching his arm, but the next minute, he was moving his fingers, his wrist, his whole arm. The numbness in Dean’s arm went away. Dean smiled when Castiel glanced over at him in amazement. Good as new.

“Great. Let’s go.” Dean called from the doorway. He expected to lead the duo back out to the car. He did not expect Annie to drop her hand onto Dean’s shoulder. Her hand slotted perfectly under his shirt where he felt the brand buzz from her touch.

The next instant though, Dean felt the ground tip beneath him. Dean felt like he was spinning in circles and falling backwards. His stomach flipped. He felt upside-down and right-way up all at the same time. The sensation ended as soon as it started. When Dean opened his eyes, they were standing in the front hallway back at Bobby’s.

“That was…unpleasant.” Cas groaned, teetering into the living room doorway. He held him stomach, and Dean knew he felt the same. Dean was going to lose the little lunch he’d eaten if the world didn’t right itself soon. Castiel’s face was pale, and Dean barely caught him from falling over while Annie walked into the living room.

Sam was sitting there on the couch with Ruby and Jo, who seemed to be…wrapping…hex bags?

That set the world right again.

“Dude!” Sam shouted at the same time as Dean.

“Why did you bring her here?” Sam snapped, standing quickly, gun in his hand.

“Why are you making hex bags with Ruby?” Dean accused. “Never mind that—” Dean glanced over quickly to make sure Cas was on his feet. “Annie healed Cas and gave us the express ride home. Where’s Bobby?”

“Sam, I knew of your excursions with this hell-spawn,” Annie spoke quietly, her gaze transfixed on the table three steps before her. “But I had never considered you were this poorly influenced.” Her words held a weight that sunk on all of their shoulders.

Ruby’s eyes flashed black from where she sat cornered into the couch. Annie’s hand twitched before clenching into a soft fist.

“Whoa, easy now.” Jo said, standing before Annie could jump at the demon. “Let’s not wreck the furniture okay?”

“You better not be wrecking my shit.” Bobby grumbled from the kitchen.

The Angel turned slowly as Bobby’s wheel chair squeaked in the kitchen. He had two seconds to look completely confused, and then panicked when Annie stepped closer. Same as with Cas, Annie pressed her fingers to Bobby’s forehead.

“There.” Annie spoke quietly. “Your readjustment will take time. Ease yourself slowly.”

“What the hell—?” Bobby muttered, jolting in his chair enough that his feet caught against the tile. Jo noticed that the chair was rolling back out from under him, and she jumped forward to help. Bobby caught her arm gratefully, but when his feet landed on the tile, he could stand.

Sam’s jaw dropped as Bobby staggered slightly. Jo let out a laugh of disbelief, Bobby’s hand still clasped on her arm as he straightened his back to stand fully. Bobby grinned in disbelief as he pulled his hand from Jo, keeping himself upright without a hitch.

“Thanks.” Bobby’s voice was quiet with awe and gratitude when he looked over at Annie again.

Dean swallowed thickly at the sight of his uncle back on his own two feet again after nearly seven years. There was a thanks on the tip of Dean’s tongue as well when Annie caught his gaze again. She was already turning out of the kitchen, standing in front of Dean and Cas.

“Now we need to talk,” Annie said, her voice tight as she squared her shoulders slowly. “You found a girl, Sarah Blake. I need you to hand her over to me.”

“What do you want with her?” Dean asked.

Cas leaned away from the doorframe, slowly falling against Dean’s side. His hand clutched at Dean’s elbow roughly, and Dean could feel Cas’ nails digging through his jacket. There was a headache creeping up along the side of Dean’s temple that he knew was from Cas. The hunter still looked pale from that Angel trip. It didn’t help either that his ears were buzzing softly while the room felt entirely too bright.

“I have orders to bring her in,” Annie was explaining when Dean snapped his attention away from Cas. “Under any circumstances.”

“You didn’t answer his question.” Castiel grumbled, picking his head up enough to glare at the Angel.

“Nor shall I.” Annie gritted through her teeth. Her eyes were bright, challenging as they fell on Cas. “I do not take orders from you—”

“Oh cut the Angel rank bull shit.” Dean shouted to talk over the Angel’s voice. “Give us one good reason why we should hand over an innocent girl to you?”

Annie’s eyes darkened. The challenge slipped out of her expression as she considered her answer. Her shoulders rose and fell roughly while her fingers flexed at her sides. “She is far from innocent Dean.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam asked across the room.

Annie shifted. Her shoulders raised, her hands clenched at her side and she whirled on Sam quick enough that he was rocked back into the couch. The air in the room seemed to snap, and whatever Ruby had been cooking on the coffee table was scattered across the floor.

Dean glared at Bobby, then Jo with a silent question. Luckily, Jo caught the meaning. Her eyes darted to the back door, and then to the floor. Sarah was in the cellar. Dean nodded tightly with a small jerk. Jo stepped around Bobby carefully, ducking towards the door as Dean drew the Angels attention again.

“Look don’t get all pissy on my brother.” Dean called because Annie was staring at Sam like she was about to blow his and Ruby’s eyes out. “We’re working together remember? So you gotta give me something here.”

“This is not a matter of your concern.” Annie told him.

“The fuck it is.” Dean swore as Castiel swayed slowly. Without thinking, Dean slipped a hand around his waist, pulling Cas against his side to keep him standing. Dean only glared at Annie. “We were chased by demons, cast out a two-story window, and only barely managed to keep this girl from being Hell’s new play thing. Why are you guys after her?”

“She is not who you think she is.” Annie answered. Dean didn’t miss that her gaze was on Cas when she spoke. “You were fortunate that I arrived here before Uriel. He has the same instructions, and he would not hesitate to use those means without condition.”

“Oh but you wouldn’t.” Ruby muttered from her corner of the couch.

“Contrary to whatever belief you may hold,” Annie continued, as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “I am on your side Dean. I would much rather take Sarah in peace so that no harm comes down on you.”

“Sorry Annie,” Dean shook his head gently. “The girl stays here. She’s confused. She’s had the worst day of her life. The last thing she needs is to be kidnapped by Angels.” 

The air in the room shifted so quickly Dean almost missed it. Cas’ grip on his arm slipped, the headache was worse now, and so was that stupid buzzing in his ears. Dean could feel it all flooding him from the bond between them. But as soon as the air shifted, Cas was taut beside Dean. He took a small step back, enough to brace himself for something as the charge filled the air.

Annie’s eyes grew bright, and they didn’t stop. There was too much white, too much light, and suddenly—

The Angel was gone with the flash of light. The room was empty.

“The fuck—” Dean murmured, but Cas’ knees buckled. “Cas?” Dean held back a groan as his weight fell against his side completely. “Cas what—”

“GUYS! HELP!” Jo shouted from the porch.

Bobby reeled at the shriek, and he darted across the kitchen with Sam on his heels. The back door swung open with a slam. When they came back, Sam was carrying Sarah, cradled in his arms while Jo kept her arm upright. Ruby cleared the stuff from the sofa so that Sam could place her down gently. Bobby came back around with the first aid kit.

Sarah’s forearm was cut, one large gash from the inside of her elbow down, turning her entire arm red with blood. Dean swallowed thickly, holding Cas tightly as he watched Jo snatch the kit. She dug through it until she found a big enough piece of gauze, pressing it into Sarah’s arm quickly to stop the bleeding.

“What happened?” Dean gasped.

“She drew this…this…” Jo waved a hand distantly as she worked and shook her head roughly.

“Looked like a spell, or some warding on the side of the house.” Bobby explained. “Gal drew it in her own blood. Probably took one of the silver knives from the weapons locker down there.”

Sam pressed a hand to Sarah’s forehead. She was sweating but she was shivering like she was cold. When she opened her eyes, she looked panicked and nervous. “Are…are they…?”

“Angels are gone.” Sam agreed with a nod, tenderly brushing the hair from her eyes as she sighed in relief. He grabbed the blanket draped over the back of the couch, pulling it down to cover Sarah completely.

“Cas? You with me buddy?” Dean wondered, unable to draw his gaze away from Sarah as she winced. Jo was pouring peroxide onto the cut, and once she did she quickly pressed the gauze back. Sam reached into the kit for the medical tap, handing it to Jo and holding the gauze in place so she could wrap it tightly.

“Barely.” Cas muttered. “Sarah what was that spell?” Cas raised his voice enough that the woman could hear him.

Sarah’s gaze was distant as she stared anywhere but her arm, but she looked over as soon as Castiel spoke. “I made them go away.” Sarah murmured as Jo finished wrapping the cut. “Far…far away.”

“Right.” Dean sighed as Castiel sagged against him. “Put that on the check list for later.”

Sam could only nod in agreement, and he watched distantly as Dean hauled his match up the stairs to their bedroom. He kept his eyes on Sarah as Jo cleaned up the med kit, smiling reassuringly as Sarah pressed her arm to her chest.

“I told you we weren’t going to let them take you.” Sam murmured softly.

Sarah nodded. “I know.” She said. “I…I just don’t trust them. And the sigil, it just popped into my head. I knew it would help.”

“Well, I’m gonna put that one down in the books.” Bobby called from the kitchen doorway. “You oughta get some rest Missy.” He pointed a look at Sarah with a fond smile. She nodded, her eyes already dropping close in exhaustion.

Sam didn’t hesitate to wind his arm under her neck and her knees, picking her up gingerly. “Until we can get those hex bags, downstairs is the safest for you.” Sam reminded her when Sarah frowned in protest of being moved. Distantly she nodded, and her head fell back into Sam’s shoulder. “Jo? Get the doors?”

Once Sarah was settled back in the cot, she was out cold. Sam collapsed in a chair at the table three feet from the panic room, running his hand over his face.

“You okay Sam?” Jo asked quietly. Her voice was tired, so Sam merely nodded. “All right. I’m crashing on the sofa tonight.”

“Sounds good.” Sam muttered distantly, his head already falling forward on his folded arms for a quick nap.


	10. Find Peace Of Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna thank you guys so much for sticking with the story. There's still a few more chapters I have for this segment, and, surprise, surprise, this story is going to be a Trilogy ^~^ So hang in there lovelies!

“You think Dean and Cas are okay?” Sarah asked gently. She was resting on her cot in the panic room with her back against the iron-salted walls. Her legs were pulled up tight against her chest and she held a hot mug of coffee between her fingers. There was soft early winter sunlight streaming through the glass roof above the fan and devil’s trap, but mostly the room was lit by the single lamp on the table not three feet away.

Sam was sitting there with his own mug of coffee in front of a strange contraption he’d pulled from under the desk, a bag of salt and what looked like a box of empty shot-gun rounds. He gave Sarah a reassuring smile.

“Yea, they’ll be fine.” Sam agreed. “We’ve had worse. They just need some R&R.”

“Don’t you need to rest too?” Sarah asked quietly. “I mean, you couldn’t have slept well against the table out there.”

Sarah had woken up around one in the afternoon to Sam’s soft snores outside the panic room. When she’d peeked around the doorway, she found him sitting at the table, his arms tucked under his face while he snoozed. Sarah had left her blanket over his shoulders, picked out a book and returned to the panic room to read until Sam woke. He’d finally startled around two thirty, groaned at the time and asked Sarah if she wanted coffee. Since she’d woken with a pounding headache, Sarah agreed.

The image of Sam, sleeping against a hard metal table was still in her mind though, and it worried her every time Sam rubbed his shoulder gingerly. There was a cut on his forehead and his bottom lip that Sarah knew was from the demon attacks yesterday. She didn’t know if he had any other injuries, but Sarah could guess there were more. Dean had said something about them jumping out a window last night. Guilt tugged at her chest, knowing that Sam, Dean and Cas were all hurt because they came to save her.

Sam’s deep chuckle brought Sarah out of her thoughts. When she looked up, that same reassuring and gentle smile was on his face. “Seriously, don’t worry about it.” Sam told her, as if he could read the thoughts running through her head. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fallen asleep on that table out there.” He added with a nod to the cellar.

Sarah found herself smiling lightly, rubbing her fingers along the warm ceramic mug in her hand. She watched as Sam took a timid sip from his steaming hot mug, and then quickly set it down in favor of the contraption on the desk. She drank her coffee as Sam filled a shell with salt, tapped it down as tight as he could, and then wrangled the shell into the contraption to seal it.

After about three minutes, Sarah realized this was something fluid and familiar to Sam. He filled the shells, packed and sealed them without really paying attention to how his hands moved across the table. He only paused at every other shell to take a sip from his coffee. Sarah rolled her bottom lip between her teeth as Jo and Dean’s words from the night before rang in her mind:

_It’s what we do…_

_Dean and Sam are still in training…_

“Sarah? You picking up anything there?” Sam wondered, snapping Sarah from her thoughts once more. She realized then that she had her head tilted upwards slightly, as if she were listening to Angels when really she was just daydreaming. She paused for a moment, trying to hone into the dull humming that usually sounded before Angels spoke.

“No.” Sarah sighed. “Everything is quiet.” Sarah sipped from her coffee again. 

Sam nodded gently and went back to his work. Sarah watched as the empty shells dwindled in their box.

“How long have you been doing this?” Sarah wondered then, curiosity getting the best of her. “Saving people and hunting…things? Jo said she’s been doing this for a while.”

Sam chuckled softly. “Yea, Jo’s a special case.” He spoke over the tap, tap, of smoothing the salt in the shell.  “Not everyone is raised in the life. Jo sorta was because her Dad was a hunter and her Mom—Ellen—got into it before they opened their saloon, the Roadhouse. It’s more than a bar and restaurant though, most hunters stop and check in when they’re passing through town. Sometimes they’re looking for a case, or trying to get help on one. Plus, the foods pretty damn good too.”

Sarah smiled as she listened, nodding over the edge of her coffee mug to encourage Sam to talk. She found herself enjoying this, sitting and listening to Sam’s voice. It was deep and soothing. A nice change of pace from the shrill shrieks of Angels in her ears.

“What about you and you brother?” Sarah prompted.

Sam took a sip from his mug before answering. “No, we weren’t raised in the life.”

Sarah frowned as she turned to look around the panic room again. “But I thought Bobby was a hunter.”

“He was, and well, he is again now.” Sam agreed, only stumbling slightly when Sarah raised an eyebrow. “See, he used to hunt.” Sam explained, turning away from the contraption entirely to face Sarah while he talked. He linked his hands together as he leaned his arms on his knees. Even thought they were both sitting, and Sam was leaning forward, he was still a little taller than Sarah. It took Sarah a second to refocus on his words rather than the way he pressed his thumbs together, or how he turned his head to brush the hair from his eyes.

“Way back before Dean and I fell into his lap.” Sam continued when Sarah blinked back to attention. “He adopted us after our parents died in a house fire. Dean was like four, and I was barely a year old. We weren’t raised in the life, because Bobby was damn set on raising us like normal kids. But he taught us kinda the jists.”

“Like what?” Sarah wondered curiously.

“Ah, just, how to fight, how to handle a gun, always know your surroundings, always listen in the dark.” Sam explained, shrugging his shoulders gently. “How to pack shells, or make bullet’s out of scrap metal if you’re running low on ammo. Which, comes in handy more often than you’d think.” Sam chuckled as he waved towards his mess of half-full shells.

“So,” Sarah swallowed a swig of coffee. “Bobby was training you guys for hunting?” Sarah asked.

Sam scratched at the back of his neck as he thought the question over. “I think he wanted us to be prepared.” Sam explained. “He didn’t want to say that there were monsters in my closet, or under the bed, but he didn’t want me to be too surprised if I actually met one someday. A lot of the skills he taught us were like your basic out-doors-survival guide, but with a few beginner-hunter quirks that we didn’t catch until we got into the life. Hell, he even tried to take me and Dean hunting during deer season once.”  Sam remembered then, smirking at the thought.

“Please don’t tell me you killed Bambi.” Sarah teased, to which Sam actually laughed.

“Nah you’re supposed to kill Bambi’s mother.” Sam joked. “Neither of us could do it though. So anyway, Bobby sorta quit the life when he adopted us. I guess you could say he went from full time to part time. Only took cases on the weekends once Dean and I were old enough to take care of ourselves. If he caught wind of risky cases, he’d pass them off to other hunters. He helped when he could but he backed out while we were kids.”

Sarah turned the mug in her fingers gently as she listened. Sam had a distant glint in his eyes, but a fond smile on his face. She tilted her head curiously, drawing Sam’s gaze back to her. “So when did he tell you the monsters under your bed might be real?”

Sam laughed at that, but it sounded dry. “He didn’t. Me and Dean had to find out the hard way.” Sam admitted as he turned back to the shells and salt on the table.

“I’m guessing the hard way is waking up one day and hearing Angel’s speaking in your head?” Sarah wondered.

Sam let out a breath as a quiet laugh only after he saw Sarah smiling softly. “Everyone has a different story.” He admitted. He put down the shotgun shell in favor for his coffee, taking a slow and steady sip. “Long story short, my brother got possessed by a demon.” Sam added once he set his mug down on the table.

Sarah shivered as the image of the doctor from the medical center flashed into her mind. That was quickly followed by the image of Ruby, the demon Sam trusted. Sarah stared at the lightened coffee in her mug as she breathed, only picking her head up when she felt the panic slowly subside. She found Sam staring at her in concern.

“That musta been rough.” Sarah said. “I can see demons Sam. They aren’t pretty.”

“No they aren’t.” Sam agreed as he let out a breath.

Sarah winched inwardly at the shadow that passed over Sam’s eyes. “You don’t have to talk about it if its—”

“Oh, no it’s fine.” Sam waved a hand gently. “It was four years ago, and well, Dean’s still here, so it’s fine. Really. It’s actually a funny story, looking back at it now.” Sam chuckled, and when Sarah tilted her head curiously, Sam pushed aside the salt. “See, Dean and Cas are matches. Castiel’s been hunting his whole life, and he had a partner, Balthazar. They ran into some trouble out on a hunt a little after Dean and Cas met. And Dean—being the big softy that he is— he went after them. We had no idea, back then, that Cas and Balthazar were hunting monsters. So, naturally with the Winchester luck, my brother got possessed while he was visiting his match at the hospital.”

“Winchester luck?” Sarah tried not to giggle at that, and Sam gave a helpless shrug. She wasn’t too sure what was funny about the story to Sam, but at least he was still smiling. It was a nice thought. Dean Winchester, the man these Angels always talked about, had a big soft spot for his match who was actually a life-long hunter. It was endearing; like one of those love stories kids fantasize about when they discover their marks for the first time. Cas was a mighty hunter but needed saving by his match, who fell into a demon and needed rescuing himself. Sarah grinned into her mug.

Sam turned back to his shells then, packing a few more while Sarah drank her coffee steadily. She watched for another minute while Sam poured, tapped, sealed, poured, tapped and sealed each shell. There seemed to be more to the story. Sarah bit her lip gently.

“So your brother gets possessed by a demon,” Sarah recounted. “You guys save him, and you two have been saving people ever since?”

Sam’s content smile disappeared slowly. He caught Sarah’s gaze for a few seconds, then turned back to the bag of salt. “Not exactly.” He answered tightly. “It took me a few more months before I started hunting. I…lost someone.” Sam tried to smile, but it was nothing more than a twitch of his lip. Sarah could see the hard lines over his brow as he tried to keep a straight face and it made her chest feel heavy.  

She hated that pained look on his face. The way he tried to hold onto the smile for her sake, the way he stared at the shells so she wouldn’t see the hurt in his eyes. Sarah didn’t know what compelled her to move, but before she knew it, her arms were wrapped around Sam’s neck in a tight hug.

He was tense for half a second, but he relaxed the next instant. Sarah smiled into his shirt. Sam smelled like parchment and salt mixed with gunpowder and this morning’s coffee. She pulled away after a few seconds, rubbing her nose against the emotions in her throat.

“I’m sorry Sam.” Sarah murmured. “You don’t have to talk about this stuff. You’ve done so much for me and I shouldn’t pry—”

“It’s okay.” Sam reassured her quickly as she drew her hands from his neck. “It was a few years ago.”

Sarah nodded gently. She rubbed her eyes and Sam silently went back to filling shotgun shells. She watched him pack three more before pressing her hand gently to the top of his shoulder. For some reason, that felt right. It was warm actually, with just her hand on his shoulder. It brought a smile to his face, and Sarah smiled in return.

“Can you show me?” Sarah wondered, glancing at the metal contraption. “I’d like to help.”

Sam grinned as he pulled over the other chair. “It’s really simple.”

 

 

\----------------------

 

 

When Castiel woke again, there was barely any daylight streaking in through their half-opened blinds. The gray-blue light gave only enough illumination for Castiel to see the rough outlines of their bedroom furniture. Dean was sound asleep beside him, snoring ever so softly on his back, his hand clutching at the blankets around his chest. Castiel smiled fondly. Dean looked so peaceful. Taking a small breath, Castiel tugged at the bond tucked under his rib cage. Exhaustion flooded him, along with a sore ache in his side, his shoulder and back from Dean’s wounds. Nothing else. Dean was fine. Castiel sighed softly, gently carding his fingers through Dean’s hair.

Images flashed in his mind from yesterday. Castiel turned carefully, staring at the bedside clock over his shoulder. 6:18 pm. Shit. He’d slept for over ten hours. The past twenty-six hours came back to him, reminding him of nearly everything they’d been through, along with all the unanswered questions and the constant confusion he’d felt. Castiel winced as his migraine from the night before threatened to return if he started thinking too much without caffeine.

Laughter rang distantly from somewhere beyond the room. Castiel massaged his temples, debating on getting up and searching for coffee this late or rolling back into Dean’s side to fall back asleep. Castiel couldn’t honestly remember the last time he’d gotten more than six hours of sleep in one night. Definitely not any time after Dean was sent to Hell. Probably never.

Something like a surprised squeal then more laughter rang up the hallway, and now Castiel was certain he wouldn’t be able to get any more sleep. The headache was pressing in, late hour be damned, reminding him of his caffeine addiction. Castiel spared a glance at his sleeping match. The noises downstairs didn’t seem to bother Dean. He hardly stirred as Castiel rolled out from under the covers and searched for a t-shirt to throw on over his sweat pants.

Downstairs the living room was bright and warm. Jo and Sarah were sitting on the sofa, facing one another as Jo spoke. There was a burger in Sarah’s hand, and three more on the coffee table between them and Sam’s chair. He was laughing at whatever story Jo was recounting. Castiel only caught a few snips as he walked through the doorway, but that was all he needed to guess what story she was telling.

“So I’m holding my machete,” Jo laughed, holding a clutched fist near her head, as if she were actually holding the weapon. “And Cas comes barreling around the corner like a mad man—”

“Please tell me you aren’t talking about that vampire nest in Albuquerque.” Castiel groaned as he shuffled forward, though there was a found smile on his face at the memory.

“Cas!” Sarah gasped in surprise, nearly spurting out the soda in her mouth on a laugh.

Sam turned in his seat to smile at Castiel. He had a mouthful of burger, the rest unwrapped in on hand. In the other he held a beer, and he nodded softly, happy to see Castiel awake.

“Welcome back to the world of the living!” Jo proclaimed. “Brought your usual since I didn’t think you’d still be Mr. Comatose when I got here.” Jo nodded to the bag on the coffee table with a soft grin. “And of course I’m telling Sarah about Albuquerque! The look on your face was priceless.”

“You nearly decapitated me instead of the vampire!” Castiel protested. “Is there any coffee left?” He asked Sam quietly.

“You only lost a few baby hairs.” Jo scoffed as she rolled her eyes gently.

“Pot’s probably cold.” Sam muttered after swallowing his mouthful of dinner. “You do know it’s like six p.m. right?”

“You try explaining time to caffeine withdrawal.” Castiel snipped as he wandered into the kitchen. “Where’s Bobby?” He called over his shoulder, peering towards the porch which was dim in the evening light.

“Went to the shop.” Sam said. “Apparently he walked the whole way into town and opened for the day. He hasn’t come home yet.”

The thought of Bobby walking stirred the memory in Castiel’s mind. He stared down at his own arm, which twelve hours ago had felt completely numb and broken.

Annie. Annie had healed them.

Dean had called her while they were at the hospital and Annie had healed him. He vaguely remembered getting back to the house and Annie healing Bobby so he could walk again. Castiel winced as his temple throbbed whenever he tried to dig for his memories from earlier.

Coffee. He desperately needed coffee.

“Hey, Cas,” Sarah called while she chewed on her dinner. “Is is true you can only kill a vampire by beheading it? I thought it was supposed to be a wooden stake through the heart.”

“Wooden stake is for zombies and typically you need to nail them back into their coffins.” Castiel explained over his shoulder as he poured in a spoonful of coffee into the top of the pot. “The town where most of the vampire lore comes from was never dealing with true vampires, but probably a witch enacting a reawakening spell. Which is why the wooden stake worked to put down the undead.” Once the coffee pot was puttering out the steamed drink, Castiel turned to face the living room, bracing his arms against the counter behind him.

Sarah was leaning against the sofa’s armrest, watching him with curiosity in her eyes. “What about fire?” Sarah asked.

“What about it?” Castiel wondered.

“In some stories, a vampire can die by fire. Like a witch on trial.” Sarah explained with a half shrug.

“You could never get a real vampire near a pyre until after you behead it.” Jo answered with a snicker. “Those bastards are pretty strong when they’re kicking.”

“I agree with Jo.” Castiel added with a ginger nod. “How’s your arm?” Castiel wondered, his gaze flickering to the thick white bandages covering Sarah’s left forearm.

She glanced down at it with a shrug. “It itches.” She admitted.

“Shouldn’t you be down in the panic room?” Castiel wondered then.

Sarah tossed a glance over her shoulder at Sam and Jo. Castiel frowned at the wary looks they all shared before both girls glared at Sam. He swallowed the last of his burger roughly, but instead of speaking up he reached into his pocket to pull out a small hex bag.

The sight made the skin on the back of Castiel’s neck rise. Sam gave him a half smile, half pleading look. “This was what we were working on this morning while you were at the hospital. Keeps us off demon and Angel radar. Had enough left to make two bags, even after Annie tried to wipe everything away. Sarah’s got one, and I got the other. Ruby’s out trying to get more supplies to make one for each of us.”

Castiel glared at the hex bag and gently shook his head. Another flash of a memory sparked through his mind; Annie had only agreed to heal Cas and Bobby so she could get to Sarah. The Angels knew she was here. “That doesn’t make Sarah any safer.” He told them. “They already know she’s here."

Sam shook his head. “For all they know, I disappeared with her to keep her somewhere safe after Annie barged in on us.” He countered. “You think they’d really try coming back here after the sigil Sarah whipped up?”

In the murky fog that was Castiel’s memory of earlier this morning there was some bright flash. “How did you manage that?” Castiel wondered, crossing his arm over his chest. His headache was getting worse as the pot behind him was still puttering away, turning hot water into coffee at a snail’s pace.

Sarah shifted in her seat, only offering a small shrug. “Like I said, the image popped into my head.” Sarah explained. “All I did was draw it and it worked.”

“Yea, in your own blood.” Jo added, her voice full of awe and disbelief. “One, that’s some serious spell working, and two, that was pretty badass.”

Castiel rolled the thought around as he turned to face the coffee pot again. Maybe that was why the Angels wanted Sarah. It wasn’t that she was tapping into Angel’s conversations. It couldn’t be just that. Castiel could hear the Angels whenever they choose to speak with him, yet he wasn’t Heaven’s Most Wanted. But Jo was right. That sigil could make the Angels leave without their consent. It was serious spell work. If Sarah was tapping into some other Angel wavelength, maybe that was why they were after her.

Castiel reached for a mug as the coffee pot finally sputtered to a halt.

Sam joined him in the kitchen, throwing away burger wrappers and an empty soda cup as a diversion. He passed over the sugar as he leaned against the counter. “What are you thinking?” He asked quietly.

“You know I usually avoid thinking before getting caffeine in my system.” Castiel muttered. “Otherwise the endeavor is usually impossible.” Castiel added roughly as he tossed in three sugars and hurriedly took a sip.

Sam’s lips quirked into something of a smile, but he wisely remained silent as Castiel drank from his mug again before answering him.

“I think perhaps that spell is what the Angels are really after.” Castiel admitted quietly.

“What would that have to do with anything?” Sam raised an eyebrow, watching as Cas stirred in another spoonful.

“I’m having trouble parsing out the Angelic mentality otherwise.” Castiel explained. “I can hear Angels, yet I’m not wanted like Sarah is. So there has to be something else the Angels want from her.”

“You think Annie was telling the truth when she said Sarah isn’t who we think she is?” Sam wondered quietly.

Castiel frowned as he wrapped a hand around the warm mug in his hands. “What?” Castiel asked in return, turning his frown to the taller man beside him.

Sam spared a glance at the living room. “That’s what Annie said this morning.” Sam explained. “Dean said Sarah was innocent, Annie said he was wrong and she wasn’t who we thought she was. It almost sounded like Sarah had some ancient history with Annie or something.”

Castiel made a point of not wincing as his temple throbbed. It was a silent reminder that a painful migraine was almost imminent if he continued thinking too much without finishing the steaming cup of coffee in his hands. All the details after the hospital were fuzzy to Castiel, and as he tried to clear away the fog, his mind fought against him. Sam’s words churned in his ears, but Castiel couldn’t remember Annie saying it. He sighed roughly, taking another long, hot drink from his mug.

“See if Jo can have Ash run a background check on her.” Castiel muttered. “Maybe there is something we don’t know about in Sarah’s past.” Castiel shrugged gently as the girls broke into laughter in the other room. Sam nodded as Castiel walked back into the living room, taking the burger Jo offered him while he sat on the floor, his back pressed lightly into the kitchen doorway. Despite the late hour and the pounding headache at his eyes, Castiel was starving.

Truth be told, black coffee—even with a dash of sugar—didn’t exactly go well with a double cheese burger dripping with grease and ketchup, but Castiel had honestly eaten worse. He listened as Jo indulged Sarah’s twenty-question quiz on monsters, where they were likely to be found and how to kill it, while Sam chimed in occasionally between sips of his beer. The girls laughed while Jo told hunting stories, and even Castiel had to smile at the few that included him. Castiel found that Sarah was incredibly bright and witty, easily keeping up with Sam’s sarcasm and Jo’s humor.

It was hard to believe this girl was wanted by demons and Angels alike.

With his stomach full, and the coffee doing nothing to help his headache, Castiel found the bond in his chest tugging him back to a weary sleep. Dean was still out cold, and now Castiel was finding it hard to keep his eyes open.

“Cas.” Jo called sharply, causing him to jolt upright from where he’d slumped against the doorframe. “Go to bed you dork. You look like you’re gonna keel over any second.”

Castiel took a deep breath, noticing Sarah’s gentle smile and Sam’s nod of agreement. Jo was watching him with sharp eyes, like Cas was too drunk on a Friday night and attempting to snag his keys to drive. Castiel gave her a rough, quick smile as he pushed himself to stand.

The walk back up the stair and into the bedroom wasn’t difficult, but Castiel’s body felt sluggish, heavy with exhaustion and in dire need of sleep again. The feeling only doubled when Castiel opened the bedroom door to hear Dean’s soft snores.

Dean shifted along the far edge of the bed as Castiel walked closer. He drew in a deep breath, gathered the blankets around his chin and settled back into his pillows, facing Castiel’s side of the bed. Castiel’s smile was fond as he watched and waited until Dean’s breathing deepened again. He kneeled onto the edge of the bed, pulling at the covers gently to slide back next to his match.

He’d missed this. He’d miss this more than he dared to admit to anyone else, or himself really. But now that Dean was back, sleeping peacefully on his side of the bed, Castiel realized how empty and barren it had been without him. It was a miracle he lasted six months. That feeling of happiness and pure joy of having Dean back swarmed him as he lay beside Dean in the comfort and warmth of his bed.

It lasted until Dean twitched in his sleep, and a hard frown formed over his sleeping face. Castiel snapped his eyes open at the small trickle of discomfort that wormed its way under his chest. Dean turned towards Castiel slightly, as if seeking relief from Castiel even in his sleep. Castiel didn’t hesitate to reach out a hand, catching at Dean’s elbow effortlessly. The warmth he felt as he brushed over Dean’s mark was only a flash of what Dean felt, and it soothed his match back to a peaceful sleep.

This was how things were most nights, and it was a cold reminder that even though Dean was back, things weren’t the same. Just in the past three weeks alone, Castiel had started to understand how different things really were. No, that was a lie. Castiel had seen it the day Dean returned. He had just elected to ignore it. Too happy to have his match back from the dead.

But it was there. Dean carried himself differently. There was this weight on his shoulders that he took with him everywhere they went. Castiel could see it when Dean woke up first thing in the morning and shuffled his way to the bathroom. He saw it when Dean leaned over the trunk of the Impala for a gun or a knife. He saw it whenever Dean talked about a demon or a hunt.

It was in the way his arm would twitch at his side for a weapon now whenever he felt nervous rather than scratching at his jaw or neck. Or in the way he’d never stare at one thing for too long while he spoke, as if expecting something to jump out of the corners.

It was in the way Dean attacked Sam after waking from a night mare, with a vindictive snarl on his face. It was in the way he’d shuddered away from Cas when they were in bed together. The way Dean reached for the nearest bottle of alcohol when he found Sam torturing a demon. He’d seen it all and only now did Castiel know what caused it.

Dean was tormented by his time in Hell. He remembered everything. 

Castiel hadn’t dared to press him after Dean’s last outburst. Dean had shivered for the rest of the night, clutching to Castiel as if he were afraid of letting go and falling back into the Pit. Castiel didn’t have the heart to force Dean into talking about what haunted his thoughts. Whatever happened to Dean, it was still with him here on Earth, the memories of that place, memories of whatever happened to him. Castiel shivered softly under the covers. He couldn’t imagine—no he didn’t want to imagine.

Not if that demon—Alistair—had been honest when he called Dean one of his most promising students. The memory of the demon slammed into Castiel so forcefully he nearly choked.

The demon _knew_ Dean. Alistair had chided Dean like he was a misbehaved student back at the church. He’d know what buttons to push to make Dean angry. He even knew that Castiel was Dean’s match.

Alistair could have killed him right away; the demon had seen Castiel lunging for the knife. It would have taken one swift move, and Castiel would have been dead at his feet. Instead, Alistair had held the knife to his throat, used Castiel’s body as a shield against Dean. Alistair had meant to taunt, to torment Dean. And it had worked. Castiel had seen the darkness cross Dean’s vision again that day. He’d felt the ice creeping in under his chest, keeping Castiel out of Dean’s heart. Whatever Dean had been thinking, Castiel hadn’t felt a thing, same as the last time this frozen feeling crept along their bond.

Dean had kept Cas out because the demon reminded him of Hell. Dean had frozen the bond a second time to keep Castiel from feeling whatever turmoil stirred in his chest at the memories. All six months of it.

Castiel let out a rough breath at the thought, rolling his fingers against Dean’s mark again. This time, it soothed them both. Dean sighed contently into the pillow, inches from Castiel’s face. The heat calmed the ache in Castiel’s chest, reminded him that his match was right here, next to him.

 Warmth, exhaustion, content and sleep washed over Castiel again at the next touch, and Castiel tugged slightly, encouraging Dean to roll into his side completely. Secretly, Castiel found this adorable; how Dean was so soft and pliant in his sleep, how he responded to the faintest of Castiel’s touches, so as Castiel pulled at his waist, Dean rolled enough to be facing Castiel despite being asleep.

“Mmm…”

Or maybe he wasn’t completely asleep anymore. Castiel smiled gently. “Sorry to wake you. Go back to sleep.” Castiel whispered against Dean’s lip.

“Mmhm…” Dean agreed, leaning forward enough to press a soft kiss to Castiel’s lip. It was so chaste, so simple, hardly even a kiss, but it heated Castiel to his core. All the cold melted as Dean leaned closer, nuzzling his head into the space between Castiel’s neck and shoulder, his lips ghosting over Castiel’s neck. His hand clutched loosely at the end of Castiel’s shirt. Before Castiel realized, Dean’s breathing had evened, his own breaths came deeper, and Castiel was drifting off back to sleep.

 

 

\----------------------

 

 

**_“Dean. Dean. Dean!”_ **

**_“Alistair! I—”_ **

**_“You know better than this.”_ **

**_“I-I’m sorry. Don’t—”_ **

**_“Shh. You know how this works, Dean. They deserve this, just as you did. They wouldn’t be here if they weren’t twisted, if they weren’t some sick and selfish soul. You know what comes next.”_ **

**His hand trembled as the stake in his hand dripped with blood. At least it looked like a stake. The object kept shifting and changing in his bloodied fist. Was that even his fist? Everything looked different here. Yet, everything was the same. The woman in front of him was held down by the same chains that held him yesterday—was it yesterday? Or was it last month? Last year maybe? He couldn’t remember. She was shaking beneath him. Her body was covered in claw marks from the hell hounds, burns from Hell’s fire, and gashes from Alistair’s last visit. Or was it his? Did he do this?**

**She was red and black and orange. She was screaming at him.**

**The knife in his hand was covered in blood. Was it her blood? Or his? The woman wailed. She flinched away from his hand when he brought it closer. He knew what he had to do. He knew how to do it. Alistair was hovering over his shoulder. He had to do this right. The knife sunk slowly, like he was cutting through butter and not someone’s ribcage. Was it her ribs or her hips? Everything was shifting.**

**_“Good. Very good Dean. Listen to her scream. That how you know you’re doing it right.”_ **

**The praise warmed him, encouraged him. He smiled. Was it a smile or a sneer? The knife slid forward again, quicker but deeper. The woman screeched. He was doing this right. It was good. Very good.**

 

“Dean. Wake up.” Hands shook his shoulders roughly, and Dean snapped his eyes open. He gasped in surprise when he was met with bright sunlight rather than orange fires, red waterfalls, black scorched racks—

“Dean? What’s wrong?” Castiel’s voice was thick with worry, and deep from sleep.

Dean blinked as his world came back into focus, and he could see Cas’ face, hovering above him. Castiel’s hand was rubbing soothing circles into his forearm, causing the ripples of warmth running through his body from their mark.

“Bad dream…” Dean’s voice felt hoarse, his throat sore. He winced, and then grimaced as his waist pulled in pain from the jolt. Castiel sucked in a breath, pulling his hand from Dean’s arm to tug away his shirt. The stitches at his waist were bleeding.

“You were tossing in your sleep,” Castiel explained. “Shit, I didn’t think—why didn’t you have Annie heal you?” Castiel demanded, and Dean could barely give him a weak smile.

“More worried about you.” Dean admitted. “Broken wrists are bitches. Stitches I can handle.”

“You—” Cas started to say, but Dean waved the thought away. Castiel huffed through his breath, standing quickly and going into the hall for the med-kit stashed away in the linen closet. “And we left as soon as Annie healed me. We didn’t have time to ask the doctors about your stitches.” Cas told him, and Dean gave him a one-arm shrug.

“You’ve done stitches in a motel how many times?” Dean wondered. Castiel didn’t give him an answer right away, he pulled back Dean’s shirt, wincing at the damage he’d done in his sleep. “Let’s just get this over with okay?” Dean grumbled, pressing his arm over his face to block out the sunlight. He didn’t want to watch Cas stitching him back together. He’d seen worse, but right now, the thought of his match tearing him apart, making him bleed—

“Dean!” Cas choked on his name, and Dean drew his hand down from his face as the bond pulsed between them. Dean was trembling. The memory was thick in his mind and Cas could feel it. Even if he had no idea about the images flashing behind Dean’s lids, Cas could _feel_ it. Dean swore as he drew back, pulled away from the bond so—

“Don’t.” Cas’ hand flew to his arm, covering the mark, making the bond flair possessively. “Don’t put that wall up again.” Cas told him. “I can’t stand it anymore, Dean. Talk to me. Tell me about the dream.”

Dean shook his head roughly. “You really don’t want to know Cas, believe me.” Dean murmured roughly. His voice hissed at the end of his sentence as Castiel plucked away the old stitches. Dean cringed, but he forced his fists to clench rather than shy away from Cas’ hands. “Did I wake you up?” Dean forced the words out with his breath.

“No. I was already awake.” Cas told him. “You were wrapped around me. I couldn’t get up even if I wanted to this morning. By the way, we slept for nearly twenty-four hours.” Castiel chuckled, and the fondness in his voice helped Dean relax.

Twenty-four hours? Seriously? Dean glanced over at the night-stand clock. It was 8:57 am. Dean felt like he’d gotten a decent night’s rest rather than three hours. Cas was probably right. Damn, that was a new record. The next prick was the needle, and Dean shut his eyes tight again.

“I’ll be quicker this time.” Castiel promised. Dean tried to nod.

 _Think about something else_. Dean told himself. _Think about…about_ …another prick of the needle and Dean sucked in a breath as the flash of a knife crossed his minds eyes. _No…no you can do this Winchester_ , Dean clenched his jaw as Castiel continued to work. Talk…Cas had wanted him to talk. Okay, he could talk.

“So was I imagining that Sam and Jo were making hex bags with Ruby?” Dean muttered, opening his eyes to stop the dark flashes from popping up in his mind. He kept his gaze fixed on their ceiling fan, which was collecting a crazy amount of dust. He should clean that today if there was time for it.

“No, you weren’t.” Castiel muttered bitterly. “I don’t remember much from that morning. But I woke up last night around six-thirty. Sam told me they had enough ingredients to make two full hex bags. They keep the barer hidden from demons and Angels. Sarah has one, and Sam has the other.” Cas told him.

“Wait, then what do you remember from the other night?” Dean wondered as he frowned at his match.

Castiel gave a little shrug. “I remember the clinic. Annie healing us and transporting us back here—”

“Which we are so _not_ doing again anytime soon.” Dean grumbled.

“Yes I agree.” Castiel said. “Everything else is foggy like a dream. I know Annie healed Bobby, but wanted Sarah in return, and that Sarah drew some blood sigil onto the back porch. But I only know because Sam and Jo told me last night. Everything is still distant, and it hurts if I try to think about it too much.”

“You had a migraine.” Dean remembered. “Wicked headache that came outta nowhere. You kinda zoned out after that sigil spell thing that Sarah pulled.”

Cas was quiet as he finished up the stitches. Dean heard the snip of his scissors, and then came the bandages. Dean sighed quietly in relief as he sat up gingerly so Cas could wrap the bandages around his abdomen. This part didn’t bother him so much. Bandages were itchy, but necessary, and frankly, Dean didn’t want to look at his stitches.

“I should check your back as well.” Cas guided him to sit on the edge of the bed, stripping his shirt off entirely. Dean smirked.

“If you wanted my shirt off babe, all you had to do was ask.” Dean purred as Cas knelt behind him on the bed. Castiel chuckled and dropped a soft kiss on the back of Dean’s neck. Then Cas was all fingers at work, and they fell back into a rough silence as Cas peeled out the motel floss stitches. Dean winced at each prick, and let his fingers grip at the edge of the mattress.

“Are you ever going to tell me about it?” Cas murmured softly as he reached for the needle again. Dean tensed under his hand, forcing his back to keep stiff as Castiel worked.

“About what?” Dean asked.

Castiel huffed a breath. “About Hell, Dean. It’s been a month. I know some things are still fresh in your mind but…” Castiel spoke gently while Dean clenched his hands into the edge of their mattress.

“It was just a nightmare Cas.” Dean murmured.

“You do realize that when you have nightmares, I can feel it?” Cas asked him. “Just as whenever I had nightmares, you could feel them. There’s usually panic and fear. Sometimes that wakes me before it wakes you. This morning was the same as all the other mornings. No panic, no fear. Not until you wake up and I ask you about it.”

 “Yea well, it’s still a nightmare ‘cause I didn’t like it one damn bit.” Dean grumbled. “Cas, I don’t know what to tell you. Okay, sure, I remember Hell. And it sucked. Actually, sucked doesn’t even begin to describe it. But I don’t wanna go down memory lane. Even though this shit’s coming back to haunt me.” Dean laughed, but it was an empty sound, even to him.

“It doesn’t have to haunt you.” Cas murmured close to his ears. “Not if you let me help.”

Dean turned his head softly to glance over his shoulder. “I know you heard Alistair. How he said I was one of his best students.” Dean bit the words out through his teeth. “A high-level demon says that about your match and you still wanna know all about it?”

“Yes.” Castiel answered without a second hesitation. “Because I can feel how it eats away at you. I can feel how you shut me out just as things are getting worse. What I get are pieces, and I know it must be much worse for you. I want to help Dean.”

“What if I told you it was better this way?” Dean asked, turning to stare down at the wooden floorboards. “What if I told you that some of the things that happened and—and some of the things I did—” He passed his tongue over his lips as he heard the snip of scissors over his shoulder. Cas was almost done patching him up, all that was left now were the bandages. “What if some of the things I did made me no better than the monsters you’ve been hunting your whole life?”

“Dean, no one person is so absolute of sin to be a judge of all humanity, and neither are they so damned as to be deprived redemption.” Castiel murmured softly.

“Did you get that out of a book?” Dean let out a rough laugh and even Castiel chuckled fondly.

“It’s a rough translation.” Castiel admitted. “Probably a bit more archaic than the typical King James version.”

“You did not just quote the Bible to me.” Dean did laugh then, and Cas placed a gentle kiss to his bare shoulder. There was a large band-aid on his back now to cover the two stitched wounds, and Dean had to resist the urge to roll his shoulder blade to loosen the tension in his skin.

Cas’ hands snaked over his shoulders, barely grazing Annie’s hand print, opting instead to wrap his arms around Dean’s neck loosely as he leaned against Dean gently. His breath was warm against Dean’s ears, and his hands were hot, comforting as they pressed against his collar bone, fingers ghosting against the anti-possession tattoo on his chest. Dean held one wrist, stroking his thumb slowly against Castiel’s skin.

“The Bible, for all its talk on damnation and sin,” Castiel muttered quietly. “Actually gives most people hope. Despite all the darkness in the world, despite all the evil things you may do, there is always forgiveness and salvation. There is always a path to do better when you have done wrong.”

“Do you really still believe that?” Dean wondered. “I mean after everything you’ve seen, after everything you’ve been through. How do you still have faith?”

“It’s not easy.” Castiel admitted deeply. “And yes, for a long time, I gave up all those Christian ideals my parents taught me. All I saw was the darkness in the world. But we tried to do right by taking out as much of the evil that we could. So, maybe I’ve kept my faith all along. It just wasn’t in God, or Angels anymore but in other people.” Castiel explained. He pressed a small kiss beneath Dean’s ear.

“There are dozens, maybe hundreds of other hunters around the world who risk their lives to keep everyone safe.” Castiel continued softly. “I have faith in them. And maybe it was the Angels coming back to Earth that reminded me of it. Granted most of them seem like heartless asshats—” Dean laughed again, and he felt Castiel’s chest shake with a deep chuckle. “But they’re not all horrid. There was an Angel that brought you back to me.”

Castiel pulled his hands away and he sat down heavily next to Dean. His hands brushed over Dean’s face, turning his chin gently so Dean had little choice but to hold his eyes. Cas was smiling softly, and Dean felt the edge of his lips quirking to mirror the happy expression.

“I have faith _in you_.” Cas said. “I don’t care what you did in Hell. I know I looked at you differently on the morning you attacked Sam, but I was concerned for you Dean. I didn’t know then what I know now. And even if you told me everything, I would not hold it against you. Even if you thought you didn’t deserve it, or that you were past the point of no return, I would forgive you Dean. Because despite what you may think, I have seen the good in you, you are not a bad person.”

Dean felt like his heart was thumping in his throat. Cas was holding him tenderly, staring at him with soft blue eyes, and Dean teetered forward enough to kiss his match gently. It was warm and slow, and Dean sighed into the sensation as Cas ran his fingers down his neck, over his shoulder, and slipping to their mark in the crook of his elbow. The heat seeped into Dean’s skin like hot water in a shower. Cas tilted his head slowly, letting Dean melt into the kiss as he wanted. Dean smiled against Cas’ lips as he pulled away gently.

“You sure you’re not an Angel Cas?” Dean teased. Castiel chuckled deeply and he nodded before pressing his forehead to Dean’s. The silence between them was comfortable, and Dean almost regretted the thoughts that ran through his mind and out his mouth in a single beat.

“You think Sam heard Alistair too?” Dean wondered quietly.

Cas took a deep breath as he pulled back. “It’s possible.” Cas admitted. “Then again, I’m almost certain he’d crashed into an old Baby Grand piano at the time. So, there’s no true way to know unless you ask him.”

 “That’ll be a fun conversation.” Dean muttered, sarcasm thick in his voice as he raked his fingers through his hair.

“For today, we can worry about Sarah.” Castiel offered. “I told Sam to call Ash so he could run a background check on her. Knowing Jo, she’ll probably swing by sometime today with the information herself. Maybe there’s something else in her past that the Angels want.”

“You mean aside from tuning into Angel Radio?” Dean stood from the bed to grab a fresh shirt while Cas cleaned up the med supplies scattered across their bed. “Not for nothing, but that doesn’t seem like a crime for execution.”

“Those were my thoughts as well.” Castiel admitted with a soft nod. “Although, I’m sure in some Angel Lore, only Angels and Prophets are allowed to hear the word of God.” Cas started to explain, but Dean groaned into his cotton long sleeved shirt.

“Babe, if you’re gonna give me another Sunday school lesson, I need coffee.” Dean muttered. “Preferably with a shot of Bailey’s.”

 

 

\--------------

 

 

Jo didn’t swing by the house until her afternoon shift was over at the Roadhouse. At that point, Dean was cleaning all the guns from the Impala’s trunk at Bobby’s desk while Cas read through a few tomes. He hadn’t seen Sam all morning, but Cas mentioned he was probably downstairs with Sarah in the cellar. Apparently, his little brother had spent all day with her yesterday, and was planning to do the same today. Jo blew into the house like it was her own, dropping a to-go-bag in front of Dean, and a file in front of Cas.

“This is the last time I do messenger duty.” She told them both forcefully as she stomped into the kitchen for a soda and dragged one of the kitchen-table chairs into the living room. “Ash was a pain in my ass, asking me a dozen and one questions about our last hunt, who this Sarah chick was and if I had her number.”

Dean smirked at that as he picked his way through the bag in front of him. The smell of barbeque sauce filled his lungs, and he nearly drooled. “It’s Friday?” He asked curiously.

“All day long.” Jo agreed with a nod as she popped the tab of her soda. “Dig in. When Sam told me you were up and running, I figured you’d be starving too. Cas devoured his burger last night.”

“You’re the best.” Dean sighed with content as he yanked out the pulled-pork sandwich and Cajun-salted fries.

“I know.” Jo gave him a cheeky grin. She took a drink from the can in her hand before turning her attention to Cas. She kicked her feet up slightly on the coffee table, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared down the hunter. “So, what’s the file say?” Jo wondered. “Didn’t have time to read it myself.”

“Sarah saw a child psychiatrist when she was four.” Castiel announced, frowning as he read through the file in his hands.

“Why?” Dean asked around a mouthful of barbeque sandwich.

“She thought her father was trying to kill her.” Castiel muttered.

Jo choked on her soda. “That’s pretty fucking heavy for a four year old Cas.” Jo gasped.

“Hence the psychiatrist.” Cas nodded softly as he grazed the page of notes in the folder. “According to this she was having tantrums and illusions. Sometimes she thought her father wasn’t truly her father, and other times she thought that he wanted to kill her because he was angry with something she did. She would barely let the man within five feet of her during these tantrums.”

“Yea, that’s a little strange.” Dean said before taking another bite out of his sandwich.

“Wait, is Sarah’s father her biological dad?” Jo wondered.

Castiel ruffled a few pages in the file. “Oh.” Castiel said, his eyebrows rising slightly as he read the documents. “Sarah was adopted when she was six months old, to William and Andrea Blake from a hospital in Ohio.”

“Someone dropped her at a hospital?” Jo asked.

“That’s all the report says.” Castiel nodded. “Sarah was left in a carrier in the middle of the ER. No one saw who dropped her off, and there was no note.”

“Alright, so maybe Will isn’t the biological father,” Dean reasoned, cleaning his fingers on a napkin. “But he’s the only father she knows if she was adopted at six months old. Where did she get the idea that Daddy wasn’t Daddy?” Dean wondered.

“I have no idea.” Castiel admitted. “Still begs the question though.” He sighed as he turned over another page in the folder.

“Why do the Angels want her?” Jo finished, leaning heavily into her chair. “Daddy issues don’t exactly call for Angelic interference.”

“Is there anything else in the file?” Dean wondered as he munched on a few fries.

“You know, you could just ask.” Sarah’s voice carried through the living room as she walked in from the kitchen. Her hands were shoved into her pockets as she leaned into the doorway. Castiel snapped the file close, Jo’s feet slipped from the coffee table and the chair legs slammed back to the floor as Dean nearly choked on his food. “You didn’t have to go and dig up a file on me to learn this stuff. I woulda told you.” She murmured softly, but Dean could see the red lining her eyes at the subject.

Sam was standing just to the side of her, but he didn’t say anything as he looked between the trio in the living room and back at Sarah. There was a strong silence in the room now, and with a sharp breath, Castiel broke it.

“Sarah, what do you remember of your Father?” Castiel asked.

“My Father was William Blake.” Sarah told him. “He was murdered three days ago along with my mother, because I was being hunted by demons. Because I could hear Angels from the moment Aniel pulled Dean from Hell back in September, and I can’t turn it off. I don’t know why they’re after me. I don’t know anything!”

Tears formed in her eyes, but Dean was surprised that she held herself together. Sam stepped forward, rubbing her shoulder gently while he stood behind her.

“Neither do we.” Jo murmured. “Cas was just looking over your file, but I’m gonna guess everything is squeaky clean.” She admitted. “Your treatments with the kid-shrink are the only weird thing before you started hearing Angels.”

“So?” Sarah asked. “I was four. They were just tantrums.” She shrugged.

“They were serious enough that your parents consulted a psychiatrist.” Castiel added gently, and Dean realized they were all agreeing to be silent about Sarah’s adoption papers. “Do you not remember that?”

Sarah shook her head gently. “Like I said, I was four.”

“You’d be surprised at what your little kid-self can remember.” Dean spoke up from his seat at Bobby’s desk. He dropped the rest of his sandwich back onto the wrapper and smacked his hands together. “Fortunately, we know someone who’s pretty damn good at finding the truth.”

“We do?” Jo asked curiously, blonde waves spinning as she wheeled to stare at Dean who was smirking proudly.

“Pamela.” Castiel answered. “She’s a psychic.” He added as he looked up at Sarah. “And Dean’s right, she could help. If there’s information you have locked away subconsciously that the Angels want, she can get to them.”

“You think Pam’s even gonna want to help us?” Sam murmured, wincing at the memory of what happened last time they called the psychic.

“Bobby can talk to her.” Dean reasoned.

“Are you all right with that Sarah?” Cas wondered.

Dean watched as Sarah shifted her weight from one foot to the other, never straying from Sam’s hand on her shoulder. She glanced between them all, but Jo was the one to give her the reassuring smile. Sarah couldn’t return the gesture, but she dropped her arms from her chest, shoving her hands into her back pockets.

“What the hell right?” Sarah muttered with a half shrug.

Jo chuckled. “We’ll make a hunter out of you yet.” She teased.


	11. It Will Never Be the Same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive the lateness of this chapter. I was part of this crazy thing called gishwhes =)

If Jo was being honest with herself, she couldn’t get a good read on Pam. Sure, Jo knew the woman was a full on psychic. She’d seen plenty of wanna-be and would-be psychics to know the genuine article when she saw it. That wasn’t what bothered her really; it wasn’t even the leather or the tattoos. Actually, Pam pulled that off flawlessly every time Jo saw her. No, it was in the way that Pam held herself when she was working on her psychic mojo. Damn Jo was hanging around Dean too much…

They were all down in the cellar again. Bobby, back on his legs, had led the blind psychic down the steps and into the panic room. Pam had wasted no time in showing off her psychic skills by naming every person in the room and pointing to where they were standing. But when she pulled off the dark sunglasses, her eyes were stark white.

Sarah’s amazed grin fell a fraction when she noticed, but Pam just laughed softly.

“Spooky right? That’s why I like them.” Pam explained. “Gotta boost my psychic charm now that I can’t hold a tattoo gun. Take it easy champ—” Pam tossed over her shoulder where Castiel was standing with his hands clutched into fists. “I ain’t bankrupt yet.”

Sarah frowned as she glanced between Pam and Cas, but the psychic simply waved her hand. “He still blames himself for me losing my eyes.” Pam had whispered quietly to Sarah, but Jo stood close enough to hear. “Honestly, it wasn’t his fault. I blame the Angels. So any chance I get to screw up their master plan I’m all in. Let’s get you set up and we’ll have ourselves a grand ol’ time.”

Sarah smiled and with Pamela’s arm draped over her shoulder, they stepped into the panic room. It didn’t take long after that for Pam to put Sarah into a trance. Jo could tell the girl was already relaxed with five hunters and a psychic keeping her safe.

Jo stood at the doorway of the panic room, not wanting to crowd Sarah or Pam while they worked the séance. Sam was in the room, leaning against the salt-encrusted iron wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Sarah once since she slipped into the trance. If there wasn’t so much worry that Sam was trying to hold back, Jo could almost smile. He cared about Sarah. He had the same look in his eyes now as he did when watching Jess play pool with Dean at the Roadhouse four years ago, like any minute now if he wasn’t careful, she’d disappear.

Jo let out a breath as her eyes trailed over to Dean. He was pressed into Castiel’s side, ankles crossed as he leaned into the table, palms braced against the edge to keep him steady. Cas was sitting on the table near Sarah’s cot, his boots resting in the seat of the chair, and Dean simply leaned into him like this was just another day at the park. It struck Jo then, just how normal it was to see them both like this, shoulders pressed together, Dean leaning into Cas slightly and Cas just holding his weight. They were good for each other and probably in ways they would never know.

Jo had seen Cas fall apart in those six months that Dean was in Hell. Dean would never know how many nights Jo had to drive Castiel home because he drank himself unconscious while sitting at the bar. Dean would never know that Jo had picked Castiel out of one too many fights because she was the only one Castiel wouldn’t hurt. Dean would probably never know that he kept the hunter sane, grounded. Castiel was downright terrifying during those first few months without Dean.

But on the other hand, Cas would never know how much Dean relied on Cas for support. Even now, Jo could see the uncertainty in Dean’s eyes. This was his idea, but ever so often, Dean was glancing at Castiel then back at Sarah, as if to ask that this was all okay. Castiel may have trained Dean in the ways of hunting for three years, but there was still territory that made Dean unstable. And he always fell back on Cas, even though he had Sam, Bobby, and Jo. He’d look to Cas first.

Bobby was out in the basement, standing at the long metal table with his arms crossed over his chest. That was another site Jo thought she’d never see again; the old hunter standing on his own two feet. It made her smile, and it definitely made her Mother smile too.

They both heard the cellar door open, and when Jo turned sharply it was in time to see Ruby stepping down into the cellar. She stopped at the second to last step to avoid the white devil’s trap and took a seat. None of the hunters in the rooms turned their eyes from Pamela and Sarah. So Jo pushed herself away from the panic-room doorway and quickly walked across the room.

“What are you doing here?” Jo snapped. Ruby simply tossed her a hex bag. Jo nearly dropped it the second her fingers closed around the cloth.

“Relax.” Ruby told her. “It’s the protection spell. It’ll keep you all warded from Angels and demons. Don’t lose them.” Ruby explained as she tossed down three more bags.

Jo stared at the pile in her hands, then back at the demon sitting on the steps. “Why are you doing this?” Jo asked quietly. “You’re a demon. Shouldn’t you be helping Lilith?”

“Just cause I’ve got the prettiest black eyes doesn’t mean I follow the queen bitch like a sick pup.” Ruby muttered. Her gaze fell away from Jo when a crash sounded from the panic room.

“BALLS!” Bobby shouted.

 

 

*******

 

 

Everything had been fine, until Pamela mentioned the adoption.

Castiel sat on the table, watching the psychic carefully as Sarah slipped into a trance. Sarah answered a few basic questions without any trouble, and then Pamela sat back. With a deep breath, she spoke as calmly as she could.

“Tell me about your father Sarah,” Pamela said. “What was his name?”

“William Blake.” Sarah whispered.

“No, he was your adoptive Father.” Pamela insisted gently. “I want you to look back, to when you were very little. Can you do that for me?”

“No…” Sarah twitched, her head twisting into the pillow on the cot. “No… _no_ …I don’t want to look.” Sarah thrashed.

Castiel winced as a faint ringing started in his ears.

“You’re okay, Sarah.” Pamela promised. “You’re going to be okay. Just take one look. That’s all you need.”

“No, please. Don’t make me.” Sarah turned in the bed again, her head snapping away from Pamela to face the wall. “No!”

“Who was your father?” Pamela pushed. “Why was he angry at you?”

“ _NO_!” Sarah shouted. “He’s going to kill me! _NOOOO_!” Sarah’s back arched as she screeched and shook on the cot.

The ringing grew louder, and Castiel heard the panic room door slam shut behind him. He couldn’t take his eyes off Sarah.

“No, no no!” Sarah screamed over the ringing. She slammed her fists into the cot, clutching at the sheets as she tossed from one side of the bed to the other. “He’s angry! I couldn’t stay!”

Dean launched from the table before Castiel could stop him. He reached out to Sarah as she sat up in the bed, still in the trance, still screaming. “I couldn’t stay! He was going to kill me!”

There was a flash as the ringing grew, but Castiel wasn’t sure if it was in his mind or if the others could hear it as well.

“Dean, don’t!” Pamela warned.

Castiel stood from the table, but it was too late.

As soon as Dean reached for Sarah’s shoulders, she threw her hand into his chest with a shout. Dean went flying across the panic room. Castiel felt the shock of her power hum through his body. Castiel collapsed against the chair, holding his head as the light bulb in the room popped and shattered.

 

 

******

 

 

Sarah was screaming on the other side of the door. And Jo heard a crash too. The lights in the basement flickered. Jo slammed her fist onto the solid-iron door. “SAM! Sam, open the door!” Jo screamed.

“It only opens from the outside!” Bobby grunted as he tried lifting the handle. “Damn lock won’t budge.”

“Sam! Dean! Cas!” Jo shouted with each slam on the door. “Guys?!”

“It’s okay!” Sam called suddenly. The room was quiet now on the other side of the door. “It’s okay. We’re fine.”

Jo glanced at Bobby, who looked just as skeptical as she felt. Jo pressed her ear to the cold metal door, as if that would help her hear whatever was happening on the other end. “Sam?” Jo called again with a soft knock.

It took a few seconds, but the door clicked, and Bobby managed to pull the handle up to swing the door open again.

“Sarah? You okay sweetie?” Pamela’s voice was soft and soothing as Jo stepped into the room. The place was a dim mess with only the light from the sun-roof.

There were papers and books scattered across the floor. The chair from the desk looked like it had been kicked to the other side of the room. Sam was pressed into the wall near the door, staring at Sarah with fear and apprehension clear in his eyes.

When Jo glanced over at the girl, it was just in time to see her open her eyes. She sat up slowly from the cot, and Pamela moved over to give her some breathing space. Her hair was a curly braided mess, her face seemed a little pale, but the smile on her face was gentle. Jo frowned. She’d been screaming not three seconds ago. Why on earth was she smiling now?

Dean groaned as he stood with his back against the far wall of the panic room to brace himself onto his legs. How he ended up all the way over there, Jo had no idea. But it must have been something serious because Cas was clutching his head tightly like he was the one in pain.

“Thanks Pamela,” Sarah spoke, her voice light and airy. “That helped. I remember everything now. I remember who I am.”

“What the hell just happened here?” Jo asked, glancing between the brothers, then back at Sarah.

“I’m not sure.” Sam admitted quietly as Dean found the strength to walk across the room. He kept an arm wrapped around his waist though, and Jo could see him favoring that shoulder again.

“I’ll bite.” Dean rasped. He sounded like he had the wind soccer punched out of his chest. “Who are you?”

Sarah turned her eyes away from staring at Pamela to answer Dean. “I’m an Angel.”

 

 

******

 

 

_That ringing._

That damn resonance wouldn’t stop, and only worsened the longer Castiel ignored it. He pressed the heels of his palms into his temples. He tried to listen, to push past the sharp tone and hear any words the Angels might be saying but there was nothing. Only the sound, one long tone, was reverberating around his head like a booming echo.

Castiel took a deep breath, leaning hard on the table to keep himself upright. He opened his eyes to see Sarah sitting up slowly, taking in the sight of the panic room. She looked at Pam sitting in front of her, Dean standing just over his shoulder, Sam and Jo near the door with Bobby, and finally her eyes landed on Castiel.

Her gaze bore into Castiel, deep, conflicted, but happy. Castiel _knew_ that gaze. He knew those eyes with that gentle smile. But it was wrong, and foggy in his mind, like something from a dream within a dream. It amplified the screeching note in his head. Despite the pain, Castiel couldn’t bring himself to look away. Part of him wanted to shut his eyes, block out the noise and the pain. Another part of him stared and stared, hopping that those bright green eyes or that gentle smile would mean something to him.

But it changed. The ringing grew louder and Castiel fought against the pain in his mind. Something shifted in Sarah’s gaze. Was that sadness? Regret? Something dark crossed her eyes.

Jo swore quietly from the doorway. Sarah had said something. What had she said?

 _I’m an Angel_ …the words rang in his ears. But they didn’t surprise him. Of course Sarah was an Angel. She was always an Angel. He knew that.

“No.” Castiel muttered. How could he know that? He couldn’t know that Sarah was an Angel. She just told him. “No this can’t be right.” Castiel muttered.

Sarah didn’t break their gaze. Her hands were clutching the cot tightly, her lips pressed together as she watched Castiel. She knew something. No. She knew _him_. This Sarah—the Angel Sarah, knew him well enough that she was concerned. That couldn’t be right. How could she know him? How had he heard her voice in his head?

_Castiel, why are you doing this? I don’t understand._

_The less you know, the safer you’ll be._

 

“Cas?” That was Dean’s voice. Distantly, Castiel was aware that his match was at his side, grabbing at his hands, trying to draw them out of his hair. Castiel couldn’t bring himself to look away from Sarah.

 _That damn ringing._ It wouldn’t stop.

Flashes came next when Sarah blinked softly.

_Sarah’s warm hugs, and her bright eyes—_

_Aniel’s red hair and her dark wings—_

_Uriel’s cynical smile, his rough laughter—_

_Someone else was there, with a strong hand on his shoulder, turning him away—_

 

“No.” Castiel ground out, finally closing his eyes, snapping away from Sarah’s bright gaze. “No, no no.”

 

 

***********

 

 

“Cas?” Dean called again when Cas nearly doubled over in his arms. The hunter was clutching his head, like whatever he was hearing would split his skull in two. The ice was thick and heavy as it settled in Dean’s chest. It happened so quickly, Dean nearly choked on it. He couldn’t stop it, and he couldn’t fight it. As soon as Cas doubled over, Dean was cut away from him. He couldn’t feel anything from Cas. There was no heartbeat fluttering around his, no pain, no emotions. It was cold and empty. The fear pounding through Dean’s veins as he held his match was his own.

“Talk to me babe.” Dean ordered. His voice wavered. He couldn’t stop moving his hands either. They gripped at Castiel’s arms, his shoulders, ran down is back. Dean held him tightly to keep him standing, but Cas wasn’t listening. He only stared at Dean’s chest as he held his head. He wasn’t blinking, and Dean had never seen his eyes so blank, so cold.

“Cas?” Dean tried again, staring him straight in the eye. “What’s wrong?”

“Pam must have triggered something.” Sarah murmured softly when Castiel didn’t answer him.

“Nuh-uh sweetheart, I was solely focused on you.” Pam protested.

“Yes, but we aren’t so different.” Sarah explained. “You awoke me fully because you were focusing on me. Castiel was close enough. He may have felt—”

“Why?!” Castiel suddenly shouted. His eyes screwed shut as he fell forward into Dean’s arms. “No, this is wrong. This isn’t right.”

“Must have felt what?” Jo asked over Dean’s shoulder.

“Someone tell me what the fuck is happening!” Dean barked as panic lanced up his sides.

Cas was shivering in arms like they were standing in snow. What the hell was Sarah talking about? She and Cas weren’t different? An awakening? Nothing was making any sense. Cas was in pain. Something was wrong and his match was in pain.

But Dean couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel anything from Cas. It was nothing but ice.

“Sarah—” Dean rasped, glancing between her and Cas quickly, afraid to take his eyes off the hunter too long.

“I can’t.” Sarah shook her head sadly.

Cas’ mouth dropped in a silent scream. His hands clutched at his hair as his knees gave out.

“Cas? CAS!” Dean shouted.

The lights in the cellar flickered, and Castiel went completely limp. He fell against Dean’s chest, arms dropping to his sides as Dean caught him. Dean staggered to keep his match upright.

“Dean?” Bobby called from the cellar. Dean could barely hear it though. His heart was pounding as he held Castiel tight in his arms. Dean leaned forward, and Castiel’s head lolled back on its own. He was out cold.

“What the hell did you do to him?!” Dean demanded, glaring at Sarah.

“Nothing.” Sarah promised. “He’s asleep Dean. He’ll be fine once he wakes up again.”

“She’s right.” Pamela added. “Cas is gonna be fine buddy. Sam, come give a blind girl a hand would ya? I think my work here is done.”

 

 

\-------------------

 

 

Dean took Castiel upstairs to bed while Sam helped Pamela into Bobby’s car so he could drive her home. Jo said she was going down to the Roadhouse to have someone cover her shift and pick them up some dinner, but that she’d be back later tonight. That left Sam with Ruby, standing out on the front porch in the chilly November evening.

“So this is getting interesting.” Ruby murmured softly.

“Yea, tell me about it.” Sam scoffed.

“Might not be so bad,” Ruby mused. “I mean it totally makes our jobs twenty times harder because she’s wanted by Heaven and Hell, but now you’ve got someone who’s more kickass than you.”

“Gee thanks.” Sam scowled.

“I’m being serious Sam.” Ruby reeled on him as soon as Bobby’s tail light disappeared along the road. “Three months ago you could’ve had Alistair _by the balls_ in that church. But you could hardly hold him back. You’re getting flabby.” She waved a hand at his chest and Sam rolled his jaw to keep from grinding his teeth.

“And what do you suggest I do?” Sam wondered tightly.

“Start toning up again.” Ruby answered effortlessly. “Need I remind you that Lilith is still out there trying to bring about the Apocalypse?”

“I can’t.” Sam bit through his teeth. “I promised Dean. No more blood.”

“Oh right, because Dean always knows what’s best.” Sarcasm dripped from her words as Ruby rolled her eyes. “Those hex bags are only going to work if you’ve got them on you. Jo left the extras I made for you guys on the table in the cellar.” She added as she spun on her heels.

Sam watched her walk down the porch for two seconds. “Where are you going?” Sam asked.

“To get some damn French Fries!” Ruby shouted over her shoulder as she raised a hand. Sam was pretty sure the demon flicked him off, but Sam shook his head in silent furry and stormed back into the house.

Sarah was in the living room, sitting on the couch with a hundred-year old Bible in her lap.

For a moment, Sam just watched her, breathing deeply to put aside the anger Ruby stirred in him. He fought down the headache too as Sarah caught his attention again. She looked different now. Sam couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something now. Confidence maybe? Sarah held her shoulder tight, like she was carrying a heavy bag on her shoulders. She didn’t have that distant tilt to her head anymore, and her fingers hardly twitched at her sleeves while she read through the book. Sam took a breath and cleared his throat as he walked into the room.

Sarah picked her head up slowly, a small smile on her face as her eyes fell on Sam. Eyes that seemed a lot more green than hazel right now.

“Pamela doesn’t like me very much anymore, does she?” Sarah asked quietly.

“She just hasn’t had a friendly run in with Angels.” Sam offered with a small shrug. Sarah nodded in understanding, gingerly closing the Bible and tucking it into the seat cushion. Sam was about to ask another question when footsteps pounded down the stairs. Dean barreled into the living room, only stopping when Sam turned to glare at him softly.

“I want to know what happened to Cas.” Dean defended, his eyes darting towards Sarah.

“Pam said he’ll be fine.” Sam reminded him.

“Sam, he’s a hunter. A pretty kick-ass hunter who just collapsed in my arms and _I couldn’t feel a damn thing_.” Dean argued, his voice rising as his anger simmered. “Sarah, you know what happened to him. Tell me, now.”

Sam huffed an apology as Dean shouldered past him to glare down at Sarah. She surprised Sam by standing and meeting Dean’s fury head on without so much as a blink.

“Cas is an Angel, just like me.” Sarah told him.

Sam held back the swear that ran through his head. Sarah didn’t flinch, and she didn’t blink at all when the words rolled off her tongue. She was telling the truth. Sam could see the exact moment the words registered in his brother’s brain, because all the anger slipped off his shoulders like someone had thrown a bucket of ice down his shirt.

“That’s not possible.” Dean said, shaking his head gently. “He’s human.”

“So was I.” Sarah pointed out. “Until Pamela unlocked my memories. Technically I still am because I don’t have my grace.”

“Grace?” Sam echoed when he realized Dean wasn’t going to say anything.

“Think of it like an Angel’s super-power.” Sarah explained while Dean staggered back until he was leaning against Bobby’s desk. “It’s the very essences of what makes an Angel. It’s everything we are at our core.”

“So, why don’t you have your grace?” Sam asked.

“I tore it out.” Sarah answered with a sad smile. “And then I fell. I wasn’t the only one.” She added gently, with a pointed look at Dean. He was rubbing his forehead with one hand while the other kept him braced against the desk.

“Cas can’t be an angel.” Dean muttered. “He’s human. He has my mark. He’s my match.”

Sarah took a small breath but she didn’t say anything against that. Instead she just shoved her hands into her back pockets. When she looked back up at Sam, there was expectance in her gaze. She knew he had a dozen questions he wanted to ask, and at the moment, only one thing jumped out at Sam.

“This is what Annie meant,” He figured with a dry laugh. “She said you weren’t innocent. That you weren’t who we thought you were. She knew you were a fallen Angel.”

Sarah nodded gently. “I disobeyed. It’s our capital one offense and punishable by death.” Sarah pulled her hands from her pockets, crossing her arms over her chest tightly. “Instead of paying for my crimes, I tore out my grace and ran.”

“That explains your tantrums.” Sam realized. “Your father is God. You still knew the Angels were angry with you.”

Sarah chuckled at that, but the sound wasn’t happy. “Yea. The longer I was a human on Earth, the easier it was to forget Heaven, forget that I was an Angel.” She flexed her fingers against her arms, staring distantly at the floor. “I had a whole new life here with my parents.”

“Until Annie yanked me out of Hell.” Dean muttered, finally speaking up from his corner of the room. Sam frowned at his brother. Dean was stiff as a rod against the desk, clutching the edge in his hands tight enough that his knuckles were turning white. His jaw was set in a line as he stared between Sarah and Sam. “If Cas is a Fallen Angel too, why didn’t that wake him up?”

Sarah picked her gave up from the floor. “I don’t know.” She told Dean with a small shake of her head.

“So then maybe he’s not an Angel.” Dean offered with a distant wave of his hand.

“Dean, I wouldn’t lie to you about this.” Sarah chided, a timid smile on her face as Dean rolled his neck with a tense sigh. “Pam’s séance woke me, and it probably chipped at Castiel’s memories too. The reaction we saw in the panic room was him rejecting the memories. That’s why he passed out.”

Sam held up a finger to get Sarah’s attention as a thought shot through his head. “So when you say you fell, do you mean like actually falling and crashing to Earth?” Sam wondered.

“That’s putting it mildly.” Sarah admitted with a nod as she paced back to the couch.

“So people would be able to see you, like a comet?” Sam wondered.

“Get to the point Sammy.” Dean muttered roughly.

“You said you tore out your grace and fell, so your grace fell too I’m guessing?” Sam asked, and when Sarah nodded he added “So what if we get your grace back for you?”

“Then I’d be a full angel!” Sarah’s soft smile broke into a sly grin as she turned back to Sam. “I’d still be rouge, but I would have my powers back.” Sarah dropped her hands to her side, clenching her fists slowly. “I could help you guys deal with Lilith and the Seals!”

“Great.” Dean’s voice was sharp and sour as he tossed his hands up into the air. “Call in the Calvary.” He muttered as he pushed himself away from Bobby’s desk.

Sam’s smile dropped as Dean stomped between them, his shoulder shoving lightly against Sam’s chest. Dean rummaged through the fridge loudly, the sound of beer bottles clinked together as Dean grabbed on for himself. Sam was about to stomp into the kitchen after his brother but Sarah’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. The screen door to the back porch opened and slammed behind Dean. Sam sighed quietly as Sarah’s hand squeezed his arm gently in reassurance.

“Give him some time.” Sarah murmured gently as her hand slipped from Sam’s shoulder. His mark burned at her touch, like it had been for the past three days, and Sam fought back the wince with a smile.

Sam nodded and turned to search for his laptop. “Let’s see what we can find.”

 

 

\---------------

 

 

Three hours later, Jo came back around with a few maps in her hands, a twelve pack, burgers, and a glare that could murder when Sam opened the door. “Weren’t you there when I said I didn’t want to be the messenger anymore?” Jo snapped at him, tossing the rolled up maps and files into his arms.

“Uhm, what?” Sam asked, glancing between Jo and his arms. “What’s this?” He added.

“When you called about fallen Angels, asteroids and comets, Ash went nuts.” Jo explained as she dropped the take-out bag on the coffee table in front of Sarah, and then went to shove the beers into the fridge. “Apparently he’s got a thing for Astrology too. Weirdo. He gave me star charts, mappings of comet’s paths for the past like fifty years apparently, meteor showers, and any star rocks that touched down.”

Sarah grinned as she reached into the take-out bag, pulling out a burger for herself and Sam. She handed one to him after he set down the maps on Bobby’s desk. Sam turned around the room once, taking in all the papers, maps, books, and notepads that littered every available space of the room.

“We’re gonna need the table from the cellar.” Sam murmured. He handed Sarah back his burger and dashed out to go find Dean. That left Jo in the room with Sarah, and the blonde waved the beer bottle in her hand.

“Want one?” Jo asked. “You’ve had a hell of a day.”

Sarah nodded in agreement around a mouthful of her burger. “Sure.”

Jo walked into the living room, extra beer in hand as she collapsed onto the couch next to Sarah. “So, fallen Angel huh?” Jo wondered as she shrugged off her coat, leaving on the dark red flannel. Once again Sarah nodded. “Why’d you fall?” Jo asked, tipping the beer bottle at her lips.

Sarah swallowed the thick bite of burger and bun in her mouth with a content sigh, washing it all down with the first swing of beer. “Let’s just say I disagreed with something my brothers and sisters did.” Sarah muttered.

“And all this star gazing, comet crashing stuff is what exactly?” Jo asked, waving a hand at the mess of a living room.

“Looking for my grace.” Sarah explained. “I tore it out and cast it away before I fell. It should have landed somewhere on Earth, probably not far from wherever I landed. So it’s definitely somewhere in the country.”

“Oh that’s a relief.” Jo rolled her eyes. It wasn’t like searching the whole country was hard or anything. “And your grace is…?” Jo trailed off, raising an eyebrow curiously.

Sarah smiled. “It’s what Dean calls Angel Mojo.” She teased, taking another bite out of her burger. Jo chuckled at that thought with a nod of understanding.

“Okay, so you tear out your grace, which makes you human and you fall to earth.” Jo recapped. “And now that you remember you’re an angel, you want your grace back? I mean you kinda side-swiped my question about why you fell, so I’m guessing it’s damn serious. Why would you want to go back to being an Angel again after falling?”

Sarah passed her tongue over her lips as she stared at the star charts across the table. She set down the last quarter of her burger and took a heavy swig from her beer. “We’ve got the Apocalypse hanging over our heads.” Sarah spoke gently, but her eyes were distant as she stared down at a chart. “Would you just sit back and watch the world you love burn if you could do something about it?” she asked, glancing at Jo.

The huntress didn’t have time to answer her.

“Someone come get the damn door wouldja?” Dean shouted from the porch.

Jo leapt to her feet, running over quickly to help the boys maneuver the heavy metal table into the living room. The opened patio door let in a rush of cold air, encouraging the men to move faster. Bobby was with them, half grinning like the muscle work out in the cold was the best thing since sliced bread.

“Easy with the heavy-lifting there Bobby,” Jo teased. “Mom wouldn’t want you throwing out your back.”

“Watch it Harvelle,” Bobby warned. “You don’t know half the dirt I got on ya that your dearest Mother don’t know.”

“Girls you’re both pretty, knock it off.” Dean scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “Where are those maps Ash sent?”

Sarah stood from the couch, handing over the rolled up maps and charts. Dean spread them out along the table and Sam grabbed the mugs from the drying rack to hold down the edges. Jo tossed down the folder of meteor showers and comet sightings.

“At least we can rule out any of the ones dating before the 70’s right?” Sam asked, his eyes darting from one file to another, briefly glancing up at Sarah with his question. “You were born in 1983, and you said your grace should have landed before you were born.”

“True.” Sarah admitted, helping Jo sort through the reports. “These are sightings in Asia and Australia…” Sarah murmured as she tossed a few pages to the floor. “If my grace wound up all the way on the other side of the world that would be a feat.”

“How far of a range are we looking at here?” Bobby wondered, both hands braced on the table as he watched Jo and Sam sort through files.

“I’m guessing same country.” Sarah admitted, tossing another few papers to the floor.

“Wouldn’t your grace fall closer to where you fell?” Jo wondered, a small frown on her face.

“If it did, that’d put it in Ohio.” Sam murmured, pushing a few files towards the edge of the table.

“Honestly, it could have landed anywhere.” Sarah said with a small frown, reaching for her beer absently while Dean peeked around her side of the table.

Jo pushed aside a few reports and her eyes grew wide. “There’s one for Illinois.”

Dean snatched the paper out of Jo’s hands before she could read anymore. Jo chewed her lip as she glanced at Sam who just shook his head stiffly.

“It’s not Sarah. Wrong year.” Dean muttered, tossing the paper to the floor. “What else you got?” He asked.

Jo bit her lip against the questions building in her throat. Dean had that Devil-could-kiss-my-ass glare on tonight, which meant if Jo pushed, it wouldn’t be pretty. She handed half the pile of papers in her hands to Dean instead.

“Look for yourself.” Jo said. “I only got two eyes. There’s plenty of reading to go around the table.”

Dean groaned softly. “I need a beer.”

“They’re already in the fridge.” Jo told him as she sat down with her stack.

 

 

******************

 

 

Ruby showed up sometime between Dean’s fifth—or was it sixth?—beer, but by then he was too tired and frustrated to care that the demon walked into the house like she owned the damn place. She sat on the kitchen counter, far enough from Dean that he was content to let her sit there without a word. He didn’t miss the glare Jo shot her, or the soft smirk from Sarah, or the cold shoulder from Sam. Huh. Maybe he and Sam were on the same page for once.

It was another hour before anyone spoke up again.

“Son of a bitch.” Sam sighed quietly.

“What?” Dean asked, his voice deep with exhaustion. It was nearly three a.m. and his brain was starting to ache from reading about the difference between meteors, comets and asteroids.

“This whole time we were looking for a meteor or a comet.” Sam muttered. “But then I thought, what about a miracle?” He asked, glancing up from the paper in his hands, eyes shifting from Sarah, to Jo then back on Dean with a tiny smile on his face.

“Come again?” Jo wondered, rubbing her face to hide a yawn.

Sam slid the paper across the table so Jo and Sarah could read. “There wasn’t a meteor shower or anything huge, but this tree showed up in the middle of a field. Locals said it came out of nowhere. One day there’s an empty field, the next day there’s a hundred year oak tree.”

“Okay that’s not something you see every day.” Dean admitted.

“So the grace crash landing wasn’t destruction?” Jo asked as she stared at the article.

“No, just creation.” Sarah said, grinning with awe in her voice. “Grace can do that easily. Where is this?” She asked.

“Um, Illinois.” Sam muttered with a quick glance at his brother. Dean was too tired to glare. “But I just found an article for a second Miracle Tree that popped up six years later in Ohio.” Sam added, turning his laptop around for them to see the picture in the journal report. They had a side-by-side comparison of the tree in Ohio to the tree in Illinois. They looked almost the same, and reporters at the time were dumbfounded as to how these trees appeared out of thin air in two different locations practically overnight.

Dean’s head was swimming again. He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to massage away the headache he could feel building behind his eyes.

“Why are we seeing stuff like Angel Grace popping up in Illinois when Sarah was born in Ohio?” Jo demanded.

Dean held back a rough sigh. That was the last straw for Jo. She’d been tense the whole night since finding the comet sighting over Illinois. And now with this Miracle Tree, she wasn’t going to shut up about it.

“Angel Grace stuff that—oh I don’t know—just so happens to pop up around the same time Cas was born?” She asked, a little more forceful, much to Dean’s dismay. “Something you guys ain’t tellin’ me?”

Dean blew out a breath as he opened his eyes. “Sarah thinks Cas is an angel.” Dean said with a distant wave of his hand.

“Yea, so do these star charts.” Jo agreed.

“Except Cas isn’t an angel.” Dean protested.

“Oh he’s totally any Angel.” Ruby muttered under her breath with a laugh.

“He’s my match.” Dean tossed the demon a rough glare before looking back at Jo. “He’s got my mark. Angels don’t have marks because they don’t have human forms. If an Angel does have a mark, it belongs to the poor bastard the Angel’s riding, not the winged asshat. No offense Sarah.”

“None taken.” Sarah nodded gently.

“Wait, you don’t have a mark?” Jo asked, her head spinning to face Sarah. The brunette worried her lip between her teeth, and for about five seconds there was nothing but silence. “Then you _do_ have a mark?” Jo wondered, because the silence was starting to become awkward.

“I never had one growing up.” Sarah finally said. “Dean’s right about that. Angels are supposed to be devoted to Heaven and God, so typically, they don’t have marks. But it’s not unheard of for Angels to form bonds if—”

“Cas has my mark.” Dean repeated strongly, cutting Sarah off sharply. “He’s had it from day one. So, he’s not an angel. Anything else you find is just a coincidence.”

Dean stood from his chair. He needed to stretch his legs and give his eyes a break from all this reading and star-chart gazing. He made it to the front door before Sam caught up to him and slammed his hand on the dark oak wood to prevent Dean from opening the door.

“Dean, when has there ever been a coincidence in our lives?” Sam asked gingerly.

“We’re not having this discussion.” Dean muttered, but there wasn’t any weight behind his words. He didn’t want to talk about this. Not when Castiel was out cold in their bed upstairs, and things were jumping out like bright sirens telling him that everything was wrong.

“Well we need to, so stow your crap for two seconds and listen.” Sam said, only dropping his hand when he was certain Dean wouldn’t leave. “Cas was adopted, but there’s no record of his birth parents, same as Sarah. She was taken in almost a year after this tree showed up in Ohio. The one that popped up in Illinois, not thirty miles out of Pontiac by the way, was nearly nine months before Cas was born.” Slowly, Sam ticked off the details on his fingers.

Dean rolled his eyes and tried to walk into the hallway back towards the kitchen. Sam only blocked his way, which, now that he was twenty-feet tall, he could do. Damn the bastard for being taller.

“You saw how he reacted today Dean.” Sam’s voice grew rougher as he gained confidence, pushing the details into Dean’s face whether he wanted to see them or not. “The damn lights in the cellar flickered and everything. So yea, he’s got your mark,” Sam added when Dean opened his eyes to glare at his brother. “And I’m pretty sure Sarah was getting to an ‘if’ about them when you cut her off. Regardless of that, I’m talking hard facts and proof here. You can’t ignore this Dean.”

“You guys are missing the big picture here.” Ruby called from the kitchen.

Dean tried not to growl, he really did, but part of him wanted nothing more than to stomp into the kitchen and punch that smug smirk off the demon’s face. Instead, he stalked back into the living room, letting Sam hold him back from running into the kitchen.

“We’re royally _fucked_.” Ruby continued, once everyone was watching her. “Angels and demons are hunting after this girl. You think they don’t already know about her grace? Meanwhile, Lilith is out there, and now Alistair, and oh, that’s right, the fucking Apocalypse. Did I miss anything?” Ruby wondered, holding her hands out at her sides while she glared at each of them in turn.

“Remind me again,” Dean tried not to grit his teeth. “But why the fuck are you still here?”

“Believe it or not jack-ass, I give a shit about your brother.” Ruby said, and Dean sucked his teeth. “And I just got out of Hell. You know what that’s like, right Dean? I don’t want to go back, and I sure as shit don’t want it up here either.”

Dean’s fists clenched at his side. That was it. Demon blade or no demon blade, he was going to find some way to kill this bitch right here and now. The only thing that stood in his way was Sam.

His brother placed a hand on his shoulder, gripping his shirts as tight as possible, keeping Dean from vaulting over the table in the middle of the room. Sarah stood suddenly, her hands outstretched to Dean’s chest while Jo managed to keep Ruby in the kitchen. Dean winced lightly at Sarah’s hand, the memory of her flinging him across the panic room suddenly a vivid image in his mind.

“Yes, you’re right.” Sarah said, pointing her glare at Ruby. “Lilith is a problem. But, like I’ve already told Dean and Sam, if we can get my grace back, then you’ve got an Angel on your side.” Sarah promised, her hand lowering from Dean’s chest as she spoke. “And I don’t have to follow their rules.” Sarah’s smirk turned into something like a toothy-grin.

Dean glared at Ruby once more, and only when she rolled her eyes did Dean snap out of Sam’s grasp to collapse back into his seat. He rubbed his forehead slowly. After a few deep breaths, Dean felt calm enough to consider the maps, the news reports, Cas’ records along with Sarah’s that Ash had dug up for them. Now, he wanted anything to veer his thoughts away from the Hell-flashes that were threatening to creep up on his beer-buzzed mind.

It pissed him off to no ends that Sam was right. Cas had little to nothing. There were no hospital records and no birth certificate, only his adoption papers, and the social security card his parents filed once he was adopted. Dean was really trying to figure out how they managed that considering there was no birth certificate for Cas at all. Which made Dean wonder, if—and that was a big fucking if—Cas really was a fallen Angel. Because if this tree appeared nine months before Cas was born then it was an exact match to Sarah’s story.

And she _was_ the Angel.

Dean shifted the pages around, reaching for his brothers’ laptop to read the article about the Miracle Tree in Illinois. Residents near the open lot where the tree appeared explained that there had been a shooting star—some had called it a comet—and then two days later, the full grown tree appeared in the lot. That was in October of 1976. Dean quickly counted the months. That put Cas at being born in July of 1977, and maybe adopted in August of 1977. Which was his current birthday. His parents probably used his adoption date in substitute.

“Fuck.” Dean swore as pinched his eyes closed. No, this couldn’t be right. Cas couldn’t be an Angel. He had a mark—Dean’s mark—he was Dean’s match. Angel’s didn’t have marks, or matches, nothing other than humans had marks. Cas had to be human.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice trembled slightly, and Dean opened his eyes to see Sam staring at him. There was something like sympathy in Sam’s gaze, to which Dean rolled his eyes.

“I’m fine Samantha.” Dean muttered. “Fucking exhausted. But I’m fine.”

“I really don’t believe you.” Sam told him.

Dean blinked and glanced around the room. Where did the girls go? Why were he and Sam the only two in the room?

“Jo looked like she was about to pass out, so she took off for the night, and Sarah went downstairs. I asked Ruby to look after her.” Sam added, obviously reading Dean’s thoughts as they flashed across his face.

Dean bristled at the thought of Ruby—a fucking demon—watching their innocent—a fucking fallen Angel for crying out loud. Sam must have read him like a book, because the big lug was puffing up for a fight.

“Look I don’t care—” Dean said with a quick wave of his hand. “You trust her. But I don’t. Plain and simple.”

“Fine, you want plain and simple? What did Ruby mean when she said you knew Hell?” Sam asked, pointing at the counter where the demon had sat during their argument.

Dean tensed in his chair. He did not want to have this conversation right now. But Sam was still going.

“Because the last time I checked, you told me you didn’t remember anything.” Sam told him, like Dean needed the reminder as well. “And like an idiot, I believed you—up until you nearly choked me to death—”

Dean felt his blood run hot, then cold at the memory. “Sam, that was an accident—”

“And then punched me in the cellar—”

“You deserved a fucking black eye!” Dean barked, anger flaring instantly as the image of a choking Samhain swirled in his mind.

“Then explain the demon at the Church!” Sam shouted, suddenly on his feet and eye-level with Dean who was standing across the table from him now. “He _knew_ you Dean. I didn’t hear all of it, but I caught enough. He _knew_ you. And I’m guessing you knew him. Wanna tell me how that works?”

Dean’s knuckles were beginning to turn white as he forced his fists to stay at his side. He couldn’t do this. Not with Sam, not right now, not fucking ever. He wanted to put it behind him and forget about it all. Six months had passed here, and even if it was another lifetime for Dean, it was in the past. He could live another life here. He was doing fine. If everyone would just leave it the fuck alone—

“Answer me Dean.” Sam was breathing heavy, fuming across the table. “Because I fucking told you everything. You said you needed me to be honest, and I was. Now it’s your turn.”

“You don’t want to know Sam.” Dean clenched his jaw.

“I _need_ to know.” Sam corrected him. “Because you haven’t been yourself since you got back. I thought I was imagining it but Cas saw it too. Even Bobby started to notice you were acting off. You jumped me in the morning, you socked Cas in the mouth—don’t try to tell me that didn’t happen, I saw his busted lip the next morning—” Sam waved a hand to cut off Dean’s protest. “You started reaching for the bottle again, you got jumpy whenever Cas or I would get near you and none of us could figure it out. But, _fuck_ Dean, you remember Hell?”

Dean turned his head away, listening to the house carefully. They’d been talking—arguing—loudly but obviously it wasn’t enough to wake Bobby or Castiel. How those two were life-long hunters but slept like the fucking dead Dean would never know.

He suddenly felt Cas’ exhaustion humming through him like a dull sleeping pill and Dean almost sighed in relief because at least he was feeling something from his match. If Dean focused on that right now, he would fall face first into the table and not wake up until tomorrow night again. He should go upstairs, wrap his arms around Cas and sleep. He could forget this day had happened forget that there were demons and Angels trying to knock down their door, forget that the Apocalypse was upon them.

“Dean.” Sam’s voice was softer this time, less anger and more concern. Dean rolled his lips as he pushed himself away from the table.

“I’m going to bed.”


	12. Watch Them Fall With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Check the tags!!! Also this chapter is nsfw. ;) Enjoy!))

Castiel woke up, soft, comfortable, and with a warm arm holding him tight. Dean’s face came into focus after Castiel blinked three times. Dean was awake, his free hand stroking against the stubble on his cheek, while his other hand traced circles into the scars along Castiel’s lower back. Dean gave him a tired smile, leaning forward to kiss him full on the mouth, needy, and desperate. Castiel ignored the fact that he had morning breath, parting his lips as soon as Dean’s tongue poked through the kiss, because he needed this too. Dean’s hand clenched at Castiel’s waist, sending little jolts of heat, need and want up Castiel’s spine. Castiel sucked in a breath when the kissing paused, but Dean took it as a cue to pull away.

“Sorry. I know it’s early…” Dean started to say, but Castiel reached a hand up to lock his fingers at the base of Dean’s neck. He pulled until Dean was dragged on top of him, Castiel’s shoulders pressed flat onto the bed, and Dean’s body covered him entirely. Castiel hummed his content into the next kiss, listening to Dean’s soft moans. Yes, they needed this. Castiel knew he was already hard from the morning, and if Dean’s hips continued their insistent grind between his thighs, it wouldn’t take much longer—

“Fuck.” Dean hissed when Castiel bit down on his bottom lip. His fingers tightened their grip on Castiel’s hips, and Dean bucked forward in reaction. Castiel smirked as Dean pulled away to tug off his shirt. Castiel rested back into the pillows, letting his eyes trail over the little bit of skin not covered in bandages.

The site of Dean’s wounds brought Castiel out of his sleepy-horny-morning haze. He let his fingers trail over the edges of the wrappings tenderly as Dean tossed his shirt to the side. Dean obviously felt the concern and worry rolling through his chest, because Dean pulled Castiel’s fingers away from his waist and up to his lips.

“Cas I’m fine.” Dean reassured him, a warm smile on his face.

“At least,” Castiel sat up enough that Dean was forced into his lap, straddling his hips as Castiel wound an arm around his back. “Let me take care of you so you can lie back. You shouldn’t be stressing your stitches.”

The smile disappeared from Dean’s face. Castiel leaned forward quickly, kissing Dean gently, wanting that smile back. Castiel peppered kisses to his cheek, then his jaw, then down to his neck, hearing Dean gasp softly as his tongue passed over the sensitive spot beneath his ear.

“I’ll only do what you ask of me,” Castiel promised softly. “You know I’d never do anything else. I want to do this for you Dean. Let me take care of you for once.”

Castiel left wet kisses all along Dean’s neck, nipping at his ear even while his fingers rubbed up Dean’s arm, catching at his elbow to brush his thumb along their mark. Dean’s groan was deep in his chest as the mark burned from the touch, the kind of heat that only happened once in a while but raced through both of them.

“Fuck. I hate it when you do that.” Dean grumbled, his fingers tugging at Castiel’s hair for a moment.

Cas brought his head away from Dean’s neck to smirk. “Do you really? Because I’ll stop if you do—” Castiel suggested, pulling his finger away slowly.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Dean growled, and they were tumbling onto the bed as Dean rushed forward for another kiss. Their lips met again, wet, and hot.  Their kisses were messy and passionate as Cas rolled them carefully. He made sure Dean didn’t land too roughly on the bed, not wanting to upset the stitches on his back. Dean hummed contently as he fell back into the bed and the pillows. Castiel smiled into his lips as Dean’s hips canted up, grinding against Castiel’s boxers. The friction added to the heat pooling in his stomach, and Castiel groaned.

“Mmm, love when I can get those noises out of you.” Dean murmured, turning his head to suck at Castiel’s shoulder.

Castiel chuckled. “Anything else you love?” Castiel wondered, his lips ghosting over Dean’s ear softly. He kept his hands on Dean, one rubbing gentle, soothing circles into his mark, keeping the heat building in their chest. The other he rubbed up and down Dean’s thigh. Castiel kept back his grin each time Dean twitched, trying to get Castiel’s hand closer to his hardening cock.

“You.” Dean answered, his back arching as Castiel fingered the band of elastic holding Dean’s boxers on his hips. “Mmm. Take them off?” Dean asked gently.

“If that’s what you want.” Castiel reminded him. Dean nodded eagerly. Removing the last bit of clothing was easy, and Castiel shifted so that he was stretched out along Dean’s good side rather than tucked between his thighs. Dean hummed as he rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms over Castiel’s shoulder to kiss him.

“Can we just lay here today like this?” Dean asked between the soft kisses. Castiel raked his fingers through Dean’s hair, drawing him closer. “I don’t want to move. I don’t wanna stop kissing you either.”

“We’ll stay as long as we can,” Castiel promised, because that was all he could say. It was early in the morning, probably a little after sunrise. They had time before the whole house was awake. Dean seemed to be thinking along the same lines because he tugged Castiel closer. His kiss deepened as Dean’s fingers dug into his shoulder and his waist. Castiel hadn’t expected Dean to grab his hips so roughly and drag them together in one long grind.

Castiel shivered at the heat that spike through him. He let his hand slip from Dean’s back, wrapping his hand around Dean’s cock, stroking enough that Dean moaned loudly into his next kiss. “Shh….” Castiel murmured between one kiss and the next as he let his fingers slid along Dean. “We can’t wake anyone.” Castiel teased, but that only gained another groan from Dean.

“Cas. More…” Dean muttered.

Castiel tightened his grip as he wrapped his fingers entirely on the head of Dean’s cock. “Like this?” Castiel wondered, giving Dean a few loose strokes.

Dean gasped, hips rocking to match Castiel’s rhythm. “Harder.”

Castiel grinned, but he kept his strokes loose, and slow, feeling how Dean’s cock swelled with each steady touch. Dean moaned into his next kiss, a needy little sound that made Cas shiver and the heat between them pulsed. Castiel squeezed on the next upstroke, and Dean bucked into his hands.

“Yes!” Dean whispered as Castiel pushed forward, crowding on top of Dean with the next kiss. “Yes, yes, _yes_. Please Cas. Need you—” Dean was begging as Castiel stroked him hard, fingers tight around his cock, sliding up and down to match the quick thrust of Dean’s hips. “Need you Cas, please.” Dean moaned again, his hands gripping Castiel at his hair and his elbow, drawing him closer, keeping the hunter on top of him.

“Tell me what you need,” Castiel murmured, his voice soft over Dean’s lips. “Tell me.”

“Need you in me Cas.” Dean gasped, his hips bucking when Castiel stopped moving his hand. “Don’t stop babe— _fuck_. I’ll be fine Cas. I need this—I need _you_.” Dean opened his eyes, his breathing ragged and hot against Castiel’s face as their foreheads pressed together. “I’m with _you_. You won’t do anything unless I ask right?”

“Of course Dean,” Castiel nodded gingerly. “Are you sure—”

“ _Yes_.” Dean half growled, half groaned. To make his point even more, Dean reached into the nightstand drawer to hand Castiel the bottle of lube. Castiel only took it in his hands when he saw the heat in Dean’s eyes.

There was no panic like the last few times, no fear in Dean’s gaze, just want and love, and the warmth rolling through Cas from the middle of his chest. He snapped the cap open while Dean shifted under him, parting his legs enough that Castiel could rub his lubed fingers along Dean’s ass. Dean hissed out a laugh, and Castiel’s hand hesitated over his skin.  

“S’just cold. Forgot about that.” Dean reassured on a breathy laugh. “It’s okay.” Dean added, opening his eyes to watch Castiel as he pushed a finger inside slowly.

Damn, Dean was tight. But soon he relaxed enough that Castiel could stroke with two fingers. He added more lube with the third, and by then, there was a soft tremor in Dean’s thighs. Castiel watched carefully, as Dean closed his eyes. His lips parted as Castiel continued to finger him open, lube slicking along with Dean’s wet moans. His hands clutched at the sheets, fists flexing whenever Castiel’s fingers edged near Dean’s prostate. Smirking to himself, Castiel pushed his fingers forward with a soft crook—

“Sonofa—!” Dean clamped his hand over his mouth as his back arched. “Fuck. Cas don’t do that again—I’ll com—fuck. _Cas_.” Dean gasped, his eyes begging as much as his words. That was all the prep Cas could stand. He drew his fingers out slowly, reaching for the bottle again to slick up his cock, and then he was back on top of Dean, who was muttering “yes yes yes.”

Castiel caught that last “yes” with his lips as he pressed forward, the head of his cock pushing into Dean, wet and hot. Dean sucked in a breath, but Castiel moved slowly, dragging himself back out to stroke in again, a little deeper. Each thrust was soft, slow, but each time, Dean took more and more, until Cas was bottoming out, with each steady stroke.

“Cas…Cas…God—” Dean moaned between kisses and the thrust of Castiel’s hips. He drew back, eyes gazing down their chests to watch as Cas’ cock sunk back into him. “ _Fuck_ …” He tossed his head back. Castiel snapped his hips forward, catching another gasp out of Dean’s lips.

“Love you Cas.” Dean whispered as he hooked an arm around Castiel’s shoulders, dragging him closer.

“Love you too Dean.” Castiel murmured, but he kept himself braced on his arms above Dean. He didn’t want to collapse on Dean—not with the stitches on his side. He knew Dean liked being close, practically flushed together when Cas was on top. But Castiel also knew that if he angled his hips just right—

“ _CAS_!” Dean shouted into his shoulder, and it was only Castiel’s hands that kept him pinned to the bed so his back wouldn’t arch.

Castiel’s grin was rough as he thrust again, hitting the same spot inside Dean that made him shiver and clench and moan into his skin. It sent shock waves through them both, and when Dean clutched at his mark, the feeling spun around them. Each thrust made Dean whimper in pleasure, and made Castiel groan.

“Yes, Cas.” Dean moaned. Castiel leaned down enough to kiss him with another thrust. “ _Fuck_ —ah, harder babe—I can take it.” Dean’s fingers clutched at the back of his neck, but it other hand never left his mark.

“Oh, I know.” Castiel snapped his hips, giving Dean exactly what he wanted, but just barely. Dean was close to coming, Cas could feel it, and he wasn’t that far behind him either. Dean’s thumb rolled across his mark, making Castiel shudder. “Dean…I’ll—”

“I know.” Dean laughed through a moan as Castiel pounded into him again, and again, tilting his hips to make Dean gasp and groan. Each stroke was wet now as Castiel fucked into Dean a little harder. The bed squeaked beneath them in tandem to Dean’s gasps. Castiel thrust—a bit rougher, hitting Dean’s prostate again and—

“ _Oh fuck_. Cas. Babe. I’m—”

Castiel slipped forward with one last hard thrust, pinning Dean to the bed with his body. Dean shouted into Castiel’s kiss, come splashing warm over Castiel’s stomach. Castiel only had to thrust once more until Dean’s orgasm rocked through him, spiking his own while he was buried deep inside Dean. The ecstasy rolled around them, warm and dizzying. Castiel could feel Dean shiver beneath him as Castiel’s heart pounded in his chest.

He wrapped an arm gently around Dean’s waist, holding him closer as they both tried to breathe. Castiel let his head loll down into the crook of Dean’s neck, sucking a small mark into the salty skin of Dean’s shoulder. Once Castiel caught his breath, he picked his head up from Dean’s neck, stroking a hand along Dean’s jaw to coax his eyes open. Dean gave him a tired smile.

“M’okay.” Dean promised. “I really, really needed that.” He added quietly, taking Castiel’s hand tightly in his, leaving a kiss on his open palm. “Cas, I’m sorry—”

“Dean you don’t have to apologize. Not to me.” Castiel may have said that a little too roughly, because Dean sunk into the pillows at his words. “I love you.” Castiel added, softer this time, letting his thumb brush over Dean’s cheek. Dean seemed to roll his eyes, so Castiel turned his chin up, not leaving any room for Dean to look away. “I know we don’t say it often, but it’s true. I adore everything about you, and nothing could ever change that.”

Dean shut his eyes, his brow knitting together and he held Castiel tighter. Grief, regret, and guilt broke through the warmth in Castiel’s chest, crashing over him mildly, but he knew for Dean it was much stronger. He shifted enough to pull out from Dean, but he rolled onto Dean’s good side, drawing his match along with him as the first sob wrecked through Dean.

“It’s okay.” Castiel promised. “You’re home, you’re safe. I love you.” It became a prayer that Castiel repeated as he ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, kissed along his forehead, his tear soaked cheeks, his trembling lips. It was slow work, but it managed to calm Dean down.

“Do you remember last Christmas?” Castiel murmured once the sobs had subsided and he brushed aside the few tears under Dean’s eyes.

“You were so drunk.” Dean whispered, his voice hoarse, but there was a laugh somewhere in there.

“I regret that now.” Castiel admitted. “I had a surprise for you that night. You found it anyway, but I never had the chance to ask you.”

A tiny hopeful smile started to spread over Dean’s face. Maybe the tears were coming back, but Castiel only felt love and happiness as Dean stared at him. “This is so fucking sappy Cas.” Dean bemoaned, but this time he did laugh. Castiel couldn’t help but grin.

“Maybe.” Castiel nodded. “But bear with me a little longer?” Castiel asked. When Dean nodded, Castiel pulled himself out of Dean’s arms. He crossed the room, opening the second drawer of Dean’s wardrobe, shoving aside his shirts until he reached the box tucked away in the corner. Castiel returned to the bed, box in hand, but he wouldn’t let Dean see it until the covers were wrapped around them both.

“Dean—”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t even finish the question.” Castiel protested lightly at Dean’s smirk.

“Doesn’t change my answer.” Dean shrugged. “If you’ll still have me, sappy fucking mess that I am, then my answer is yes.”

Castiel sighed as he opened the box again, showing Dean the silver ring he’d made last year. Dean practically beamed as Castiel took the ring in his hand, and slid it onto Dean’s left ring finger.

“Never did ask you how you managed to get my ring size.” Dean murmured, admiring the silver, rolling it smoothly with his thumb.

“Your hands are only slightly bigger than mine.” Castiel told him. “And, I made this.”

“What?” Dean’s eyes grew wide, staring between Castiel and the ring. “How?”

“Melted down some silver bullets.” Castiel chuckled at the wonder on Dean’s face. “The word on the inside is Latin.”

“Figured as much. What is it? Some kind of protection spell?” Dean wondered.

Castiel smiled, drawing Dean close enough that their noses bumped when Castiel kissed him. “It just says Beloved.”

“Said the mighty hunter, Castiel Novak,” Dean murmured, but Castiel could see the blush creeping up to his ears. “You better be careful Cas, or those monsters and demons are gonna start thinking you’re going soft.”

Castiel chuckled. “It’ll be our secret then.” 

“I can live with that.” Dean agreed, drawing Castiel in for another soft, languid kiss.

 

 

\-----------------------------------

 

 

“Coffee?” Sam offered.

He was already holding out an extra mug as Sarah sat up from the sofa. She smiled in thanks, taking the cup as a yawn overtook her smile. Sam chuckled as he turned back to the metal table taking up the remaining floor space in the living room. Which, Sarah was now noticing, wasn’t much room at all.

Bobby’s grumbling that Sarah heard as she walked up from the cellar this morning suddenly made more sense. Sam promised his uncle he’d take care of the clutter as Bobby had left for the auto-shop once again. Sarah couldn’t help but smile into her mug as she watched Sam sort and pile things onto different stacks around the living room, on the coffee table, and Bobby’s desk.

“Sam?” Sarah called gently. Sam tossed a glance over his shoulder. “What did you do? Before hunting?”

“I was pre-law at Stanford.” Sam explained with a dry laugh. “Guess I’ve always had the kick to help people ya know?”

“That’s very noble of you.” Sarah agreed with a nod. “You’d make a great lawyer some day. You have a knack for thinking outside the box. We would still be sitting at the table looking for meteor showers if you hadn’t thought of miracles instead.”

Sarah was pretty sure that Sam was blushing as he ducked his head back towards the table to roll up the maps. The silence that filled the room after that was comfortable as Sarah sipped her coffee.

While Sam cleared the table, Sarah tried to tidy up the stack of books and files on the coffee table in front of her. Part of her was astounded at the sheer amount of information in just this section of the room. Books and scrolls took up most of the space across the table and around the floor. Some notebooks had scribbled translations while others held drawings and mindless doodles.

Distantly, Sarah glanced through the translations. Some of the ancient dialects swirled into English in her mind. Some of these scrolls talked about Prophecies, and the Ends of Days. The Apocalypse. Oh, these were the seals that Castiel was researching. Sarah shifted a few more papers to find Castiel’s notes. She smirked. This list wasn’t far off. Maybe Castiel remembered more than he knew—

“I know Dean wasn’t too keen on the idea last night,” Sam spoke up, drawing Sarah’s attention instantly. “But the more I look at this, the more it sounds like Cas is, or was an Angel.”

“Is.” Sarah corrected with a grave nod, putting the notepad on the top of the stack she’s created. “I thought Pam woke him last night. But, maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought. He may not remember much when he wakes up today. Especially since Dean doesn’t want to believe it either.”

Sam turned in his chair so he could look at her, a soft frown marring his features as he asked, “What do you mean?”

Sarah picked up her cup of coffee, taking a thoughtful sip. “Well, they’re bonded right?” Sarah asked as the flavor of coffee swirled over her tongue. “If Dean doesn’t want to believe, it can affect whatever Castiel chooses to remember. Bonds are more than just emotions they’re an entanglement of souls.”

“It’s not their first one though,” Sam murmured softly. “Close to their third now I think. It can’t still be that strong.”

“Your brother is bound to an Angel,” Sarah gave him a gentle smirk. “Anything they have is going to be much stronger than ones between humans. It’s probably just a little less intense then being an Angel’s vessel. And that’s like being chained to an actual comet.”

“How would you know?” Sam wondered. “You’re technically human now right? You don’t need a vessel.”

Sarah gave him a gentle smile, and hoped there wasn’t too much sadness in her eyes as she caught his gaze for a few seconds. “This isn’t my first time being here on earth Sam. Just the first time without my grace. And Castiel is different,” Sarah mumbled, staring down into her mug. “He always was.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, and Sarah was content to stare at the dark coffee in her hands. She heard Sam tapping a pen against the table before he broke the silence.

“How?” Sam asked. “You and Cas both fell. What makes him different?”   

“I fell because I disobeyed.” Sarah spoke quietly. “I didn’t agree with something, so instead of taking the punishment, I tore out my grace and fell.”

“And he didn’t?” Sam asked. “He’s human now so doesn’t that mean he had to do the same thing as you? Rip out his grace and fall?”

Sarah took a deep breath, rubbing her fingers along the warm mug in her hands. She nodded gently to Sam, but she wasn’t sure which question she was answering.

“Castiel was my brother in heaven. We served together. We watched over Earth, over humanity, for…” Sarah sighed quietly as she leaned back into the sofa. Her gaze flickered up to the ceiling as she held the coffee in her hands. “Eons and eons. Time though, is different for Angels. We can see all that was, all that is, and some things that may be. Don’t try to figure it out, there’s way too much—” Sarah waved her hand when Sam tilted his head curiously. She inhaled deeply as she picked her head up slowly, a sad smile rising to her face.

“I remember one day that Castiel came to me, ecstatic, alighted even.” Sarah bit her lip to keep back a smile, her gaze drifting to the patterned rug on the hard wood floor. “He told me about this human he met, completely by accident as it happened. This boy who wasn’t even born yet—eyes as green as grassy meadows, hair as gold as fallen wheat, with a soul so bright it had to have been blessed by our Father himself. He went on and on. This boy would be so loving, caring, generous, protective—so protective of his loved ones, and so fiercely loyal to them. Castiel was astounded the boy wasn’t an angel in disguise.”

Sarah smiled at that, and Sam chuckled. She tapped her fingers against her mug as the memories slowly swam into the front of her mind. “And then one day Castiel discovered this child would not have anyone. Oh he would have a brother, a father, mother and sister. Castiel saw his friends and loved one. But everyone had someone else. Expect that lonely boy.”

Sarah waited for that to sink in, and slowly the idea hit Sam. She saw the way his expression changed from confusion, to understanding, to something like horror. “Dean wasn’t supposed to have a match…?” He asked quietly, as if he was afraid to even voice the thought.

“There are some humans born without matches, even if they have a mark.” Sarah agreed with a solemn nod. “Sometimes that happens when a child dies before or right after birth. Maybe that was the case with Dean. Or maybe Castiel was his all along.” Sarah shrugged with a tiny smile on his face. “Time is funny that way.”

“I still don’t get how that makes Cas different from you?” Sam wondered. “Last night, you said that Angels aren’t supposed to associate with humans. It’s against the rules. So if Cas fell for my brother, doesn’t that mean Cas disobeyed too?”

“That’s where things get…” Sarah swallowed thickly. “Complicated.”

“Complicated how?” Sam asked.

Sarah pressed her lips together, staring at the dark drink in her hands. “I’m not sure it’s my place to say.” Sarah shook her head gently, and thankfully, Sam didn’t push the story.  

Instead, he turned his attention back to the papers strewn across the table. Sarah sighed quietly, relaxing back into the sofa with her coffee. She was content with the silence now, which was only disrupted when Sam moved papers or stacked books. Overall, Sarah was hoping it would be a calm morning.

 

 

********

 

 

Sam was nearly done clearing off the table when it hit him. He’d been thinking about everything Sarah told him as he worked. Memories swirled in his mind as he finished pushing way star maps. Dean had made a stack of papers at the bottom of the pile. Everything there was stuff they thought was related to Cas being an angel. Sam chewed his lips as he pulled the papers out again to look them over one last time. More details came back to him as he stored through the records.

Like how every demon they had interrogated during the past six months always spat at Castiel and called him Angel. Even Ruby did it now and then. Actually, Sam was pretty damn sure Ruby did it last night too. Sam had always thought it was because ‘Castiel’ was the name of an Angel. But maybe the demons had known…

And how Cas had been the only one of them, aside from Sarah, who could hear the true voices of Angels. That had started as soon as Dean was pulled out of Hell. Just like Sarah.

He suddenly remembered how Annie had always bristled whenever Castiel questioned her order, like he was her subordinate, being disobedient and refusing commands. It made Sam wondered if maybe that’s how things were when Cas was an Angel.

Now that Sam thought about it, he remembered how tense Castiel was the first time he’d met Uriel. It had seemed like the hunter recognized him from someplace but couldn’t remember. Uriel’s words rang in Sam’s mind.

_I can see why he likes you, insolent, disobedient, ungrateful—_

“Holy shit.” Sam swore. The words were bubbling up out of his mouth as soon as the thoughts crossed his mind. “They knew. Annie and Uriel. This whole time. They knew that Cas was an Angel, but they never said anything. Why?”

Sam spun to see that Sarah was standing from the couch, coffee abandoned on the table by the sofa, and she was staring at the doorway. Sam glanced up to find Castiel gawking at him, wet hair disheveled, mouth agape, blue eyes wide and surprised.

“Cas…” Sam whispered softly, instantly regretting everything he’d just said. How long had the hunter stood silent in the doorway? Had he heard everything Sam just said?

“Cas?” Dean called out as he pounded down the steps, fear written across his face as he hurried to toss on his flannel.

Sam held back a wince. Dean only looked that scared when Cas was in trouble. And right now, Cas looked so stricken, Sam wouldn’t be surprised if Dean could feel it. His brother was at Castiel’s side an instant later, looking at the hunter, then Sam and the papers scattered across the table. Dean swore under his breath, grasping Castiel’s shoulder roughly, turning him away from the living room.

“Cas, look this stuff is about Sarah, not you.” Dean barked out. “Come on, I’ll get you some coffee—”

“It’s true.” Castiel whispered, his gaze flickering between Dean and the table over his shoulder. Sam had never seen the hunter look so lost. “I thought it was a dream last night. Sarah is a fallen Angel?”

“Yes.” Sarah answered when both brothers fell silent. Cas’ gaze fell on her as she twirled the frayed ends of her sweater between her fingers. She took a breath, and Sam already knew the question that she was going to ask. “Cas, what else do you remember from last night?” Sarah pressed softly.

“No.” Dean stated before Castiel could even open his mouth. “We’re not doing this now. Coffee first. Sam, load up the Impala. We’ll check out Sarah’s mystery miracle tree today and that’s it.”

“Dean, we have to pass through Illinois to get to Ohio.” Sam called as Dean stormed around the table to get into the kitchen. Sam was surprised that his voice was even despite the intensity of Castiel’s gaze, and the tension between him and Sarah.

“Yea, I know the road map Sammy.” Dean frowned as he worked the coffee machine into making a fresh pot.

Cas didn’t follow him into the kitchen though. He took the two steps into the living room to lean a hand on the metal table, sorting through the maps, and the Miracle Tree articles. Sam watched the hard line of concentration dig into Castiel’s forehead, as his eyes flickered from one article to the next. Cas was a hunter. He could piece this together in less than five minutes.

“So, don’t you think we should stop at the first one? Ya know, since it’s on the way there?” Sam wondered, but he never took his eyes off Cas. What he was watching for exactly, Sam didn’t know.

Sarah hadn’t budged either, but Sam could tell she was staring just as intently at Castiel. He glanced over at Dean then, who was still determined to watch the coffee brew in the pot, his shoulders a tight line of defense.

“If you’re so sure this has nothing to do with Cas, Sarah can figure it out.” Sam added when the silence continued building between them. “If the tree held your grace, you would know right?” Sam asked, glancing at the fallen Angel.

“Yes.” Sarah answered plainly. “And I would know if it didn’t.” She added. Dean braced his hands against the counter, hanging his head gently as the coffee pot continued to sputter.

“Dean, they have a fair point.” Castiel’s voice was deep but quiet as he spoke, a picture of the Illinois Miracle Tree in his hands.

“Cas you’re not an Angel!” Dean spun around then, his hands clutching at the edge of the counter. “You’re nothing like Annie or Uriel. You’re human. You were born human, you grew up human—for fuck’s sake Cas you have my mark!” Dean added. No one pointed out how Dean’s voice wavered on his exclamation, or how his eyes suddenly looked glossy and his hard expression was just a step away from crumbling while he stared at his match.

Cas spun on his heels though, dropping the pictures and articles back to the table. He steps were quick as he crossed the room until he was toe-to-toe with Dean in the kitchen. Castiel took his hand slowly, and Sam caught the glimmer of silver on Dean’s hand.

It was on Dean’s left hand, his ring finger actually. Sam smiled lightly at the sight. No wonder Dean was ignoring all the signs that pointed at Cas being an Angel. Sam chewed his lip gently as he turned to face Sarah.

“Wanna give me a hand with this?” Sam murmured with a nod towards the back door. “Those two are gonna need a minute.”

Sarah tore her gaze from the couple in the kitchen, nodding absently and following Sam outside to the Impala.

 

 

*****

 

 

Once Cas heard the slam of the screen door, he was a hard line against Dean, keeping him shoved into the counter while he kissed Dean as if their lives depended on it. Dean huffed a sigh but he couldn’t fight Cas. He didn’t actually want to right now. The kiss was rough but it grounded him, reminded him that Cas was here, with him, and he wasn’t leaving. The small prick of his nails digging into his palms was nothing compared to the warmth swirling in his chest. Cas pulled away slowly, leaving Dean a little breathless and leaning forward for more.

“Angel or human,” Castiel told him quietly. “I am still yours. Nothing will change that.” Dean rolled his lips as Cas stared at him. Those blue eyes that were usually sharp and cold were soothing and caring. Dean shook his head at the pleading glint that swarmed over Castiel’s face as the hunter continued. “But after the séance last night and the things I saw…” Castiel took a deep breath when Dean caught his gaze. “I need to know.”

“I got a bad feeling about this Cas.” Dean murmured. “Getting Sarah back her grace is gonna be tough enough as it is. Ruby was right last night.” When Cas frowned and tilted his head curiously, Dean remembered that Cas had passed out long before the demon had shown up last night. Dean sighed and waved a hand towards the window. “Because of Sarah’s grace, we’ve got demons and Angels hounding after us. We can’t fight them both Cas, let alone win that fight.”

“We’ve handled worse in the past.” Cas reminded him as he rolled the ring on Dean’s finger. For a few seconds, Dean watched the band as it caught the mid-morning sunlight streaming through the open window. What he wouldn’t give to rewind the past twenty minutes. To go back upstairs and join Cas in the shower until it ran cold just so they could curl back up in bed again.

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice was soft against his cheek but Dean couldn’t raise his gaze. “Do you trust me?”

That made Dean’s head snap up quickly, if only to glare at his match. “I’m wearing your home-made engagement ring. Why would you even ask me that?”

“Because,” Castiel smiled at him gently. “Sometimes you need to be reminded of it just as much as I do.”  

Dean was quiet for only a few seconds, taking in Cas’ smile and the tenderness in his eyes. “I’ve always trusted you Cas. With my life.”

Castiel’s smile grew only a fraction before he caught Dean’s lips in another kiss. It wasn’t as brutal as the first, but Cas didn’t ease up on him either. Dean could feel the edge of the counter digging into his back as Cas tongued at his bottom lip, one hand squeezing his fingers, the other carding through his hair to rest at the back of his neck.

Slowly Cas kissed him, until Dean was feeling warm, almost content all over, parting his lips to let Cas in with a soft breath. Dean sighed quietly in defeat, feeling his body sag against the counter. When Cas pulled away from the kiss again, Dean wasn’t at all surprised to see the pleasant smirk on his match’s face.

Dean hoped his glare was convincing enough. Cas’ grin said otherwise.

“Fine, we check out the tree in Illinois.” Dean muttered.  “But we let Sarah do the hippie tree-talking, and then we leave. The sooner we get her mojo back, the better.”

 

 

\------------------------

 

 

Dean wasn’t one for flora and fauna, but even he had to admit, the tree was awe-inspiring.

There was this feeling of wisdom, of sufferings as old as time, of growth that took eons and eons of work and toil. Dean could feel it humming through the ground the instant he stepped out of the Impala. This tree felt ancient. It certainly looked ancient, which contradicted the papers reports of this tree growing overnight.

The smells of oak and damp leaves after a soft rain coated the air as they walked towards it. The closer they stepped, the more Dean felt the tension ease out of his shoulders. It felt a bit like coming to an old place of peace. It was a feeling that made him want to throw down his jacket in the summer, kick his feet up and stay for a while watching the cars pass by on the road with a cool beer in his hands. He could see Cas and Sam sitting with him, a pile of books between them and it would be the best afternoon they’d ever spent together. Dean realized then, the tree felt like coming home. It was soothing, but it also made the pit in his stomach heavier.

Sarah stalked up to the grand oak with a found smile on her face. She pressed her hand into the wood, touching lightly at the groves and knots until her hands grew still over a section under the lowest branch. Sam stood between Cas and the fallen Angel, glancing between the two once Sarah’s face twisted into a hard frown. Sam tossed him a worried look, so Dean spoke up first.

“Anything?” Dean wondered, hands shoved into his jacket pockets to keep them warm against the chilling wind.

“There was, but,” Sarah answered, carefully. “It’s gone now.”

“Gone?” Sam echoed.

“One of the other Angels must have found it,” Sarah guessed, drawing her hand away slowly and turning to face them. “I can’t tell if it was mine, or Castiel’s. But there was Angel grace here, and someone else has it.”

“Wonderful. Off to Ohio then.” Dean murmured, turning from the tree. “Think these hex bags are gonna last till then?” Dean tossed at his brother as he trudged back to the Impala since he was twirling the little pouch in his pocket to keep his fingers from going numb.

“They should. So long as we keep them on us, the Angels and demons shouldn’t be able to find us. Ruby knew what she was doing.” Sam explained gingerly, knowing how much Dean hated the thought of hex bags, let alone hex bags made by demons. He stopped mid-stride as Dean was fishing the keys out from his pocket. “Cas?” Sam called back, and Dean turned quickly.

Sure enough, the hunter was standing under the branches of the tree, exactly where Sarah stood not a minute ago. The woman sucked in a breath behind Sam, watching Castiel with glossy eyes.

“Why don’t you guys wait in the car?” Dean asked, somewhat distantly as he held out the keys to his brother without taking his eyes off his match.

“You sure?” Sam wondered, but Dean dropped the ring into his hand and wandered back towards the tree without another word. Sam chewed his lip as he glanced down at Sarah. “It was Cas’ grace in that tree, wasn’t it?” Sam asked her quietly. Sarah’s eyes only grew red as she caught his gaze, and then silently walked back to the Impala.

“Cas, come on, we’re gonna run out of daylight before we hit Ohio.” Dean started, a few twigs snapping under his boots as he stepped around the roots of the massive tree.

“You’re not going to like this.” Cas muttered under his breath.

Dean frowned as the words swirled between them in silence. Cas ran his fingers over the bark, a few pieces chipping away under his nails. Dean felt something prick at his shoulder blade where he knew Annie’s hand print rested, and he snapped forward, grabbing Castiel’s hand before he could pick away at the tree anymore.

“Leave it.” Dean ordered. “Sarah said the grace is gone. We gotta check the other tree.”

“That one will be empty too.” Cas sighed. “They knew we fell, Dean. They knew _where_ we fell.”

Dean swallowed roughly. Cas said ‘we’. Not just Sarah. His stomach flipped dangerously, threatening to bring up Dean’s half lunch of a chili-dog from the dinner they passed three hours ago. Cas noticed because he gave Dean’s hand a small squeeze of weak reassurance.

“If it took us two days to figure it out, it would have taken the Angels less time. They may have known about it the instant the trees took root thirty years ago.” Cas figured. He turned his gaze to the trunk, following the bark as it twisted up into branches. “Dean this tree is mine. I can feel it.”

“ _DEAN_!” Sam’s voice bellowed across the field. Dean jumped and Castiel snapped to attention instantly.

Sarah was doubled over, clutching her head as her knees buckled under her. Sam’s arms were wrapped around her waist to keep her standing. Dean swore under his breath as he raced Castiel back to the car.

“What happened?” Cas barked.

“I don’t know!” Sam gasped, clutching Sarah tightly as she doubled over. “One minute she was fine, and the next—”

“They won’t stop _screaming!_ ” Sarah hissed through her teeth. Her hands were covering her ears, her fingers digging into her skull as she picked her head up slowly. Her eyes were distant as they stared, wide between Cas and Sam. “The Angels. Pissed doesn’t even cover it—” Sarah bit back a shout as another wave hit her. Her knees buckled, and Sam had to wrap his arm around Sarah’s shoulder to keep her pressed against his side.

“Cas can you hear them?” Dean wondered.

“No, nothing.” Cas shook his head. “Sarah what are they saying?”

“A warning.” Sarah ground between her teeth. “F—for Dean— _ah_ —Give us the girl. Or—” Sarah’s eyes rolled slowly, and Dean was afraid she was going to pass out. Sam’s grip on her shoulder and her waist tightened when Sarah screwed her eyes shut. Her mouth dropped in a silent scream.

Cas swore under his breath as he reached forward, taking her hands from her head so she wouldn’t pull out her hair. “Sarah!”

As soon as Castiel shouted, Sarah gasped suddenly like he’d doused her with ice water. Her eyes were bright green when she glanced from Cas to Sam. White puffs of fog billowed out as Sarah panted, trying to catching her breath while Sam held her. Her hands trembled in Castiel’s hold and her face was steadily growing pale.

“Sarah, you need to tell us what they said.” Cas reminded her, speaking slowly but his voice held strong.

“Dean Winchester. Give us the girl. Or they both die.” Sarah recited, like she was an answering machine. Her eyes locked onto Dean, her gaze distant and cold. She blinked once, twice, and the edge disappeared from her gaze. She took in a shaky breath and her eyes dropped to her hands held tightly in Castiel’s.  

“What?” Dean barked. “They? They who?”

Sarah’s breaths were coming in short snips as her gaze darted from Castiel’s hands to Sam’s fingers clutching her left shoulder tightly. “Angels are…resolute Dean,” Sarah spoke between her breaths, shaking her head gently. “This is their justice. You have something of theirs. So they’ll take something of yours.”

 ** _They both die_**. Sarah’s warning rang in his mind again. **_They both die_**. They. Sam and Cas.

“ _Son of a bitch_!” Dean swore as he snapped away from the car. He vaguely heard an apology murmured at his back and Sam’s words of reassurance while one of the Impala doors opened. Leave it to fucking Angels to be as bad as monsters. Winged self-righteous pricks. Dean ran his fingers through his hair as the warning rolled over in his head.

Give us the girl. Or they both die.

He didn’t turn around until he heard the engine running, only to find Sam leaning against the Impala, his arms crossed over his chest, and Cas watching him carefully. Dean caught his match’s gaze. Castiel’s eyes were cold but bright with anger. Cas was pissed. At least Dean wasn’t the only one. His boots stomped through the grass as he stood between his brother and his match, one hand resting on the cold metal of the driver-side door.

“Remember how I said we couldn't win a fight between the two?" Dean asked, his voice tight as the anger rolled in his chest. Sam frowned, but Castiel nodded softly. Dean licked his lips as he stepped forward, closer to Sam and his match. "What do you think can kill an Angel?” Dean whispered, his breath was hot enough to fog up the metal finishes on the top of the Impala.

“Probably only a demon.” Castiel murmured just as softly.

"A very powerful demon." Sam agreed, clarity pulling away the lines of a frown on his face. Dean's gaze flickered to his open palm, catching their attentions to show them the hex bag. Sam sighed deeply as he reached for his phone. He hesitated though, looking between Cas and Dean once more, as if asking for permission.

Dean nodded as Castiel walked around the back of the Impala to open the front passenger door. Sam pressed the phone to his ear. “Yea. This oughta be fun.” He muttered as he slipped behind the driver's seat, closing the door harshly.


	13. Explosions

_**"You are hiding from us. I thought I destroyed the hex bags that demon was making.”** _

_Annie’s voice didn’t surprise Castiel, but he was a bit unsettled. He turned his gaze to the abandoned shed he was currently standing in, only to find the Angel in front of him. Her arms were crossed over her chest as though she were scolding a misbehaved child, and her glare was cold._

_Castiel had to keep himself from chuckling at that thought. Well, she may not be wrong. Castiel kept his expression neutral, offering her a soft shrug in reply while he shoved his hands into his pockets._

**_“We didn’t quite part on friendly terms last time,”_ ** _Castiel told her. **“Dean and Sam both felt that we needed some space.”**_

**_“Tell me where you are Castiel.”_ ** _Annie said._

_That was definitely an order. Her arms fell down to her side but she didn’t shy away from Castiel’s glare. Instead, she faced it head on, her head tilted down slightly and her shoulders squared behind her. Castiel was briefly reminded of the dark, wing shaped shadows from that barn in Pontiac. At the same time, there was a flash of burgundy feathers that Castiel had to shake away._

**_“Tell me why you want Sarah so badly.”_ ** _Castiel offered instead, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark torn jeans. He didn’t feel his knife, or his lock picks. Come to think of it, he didn’t feel the cold November wind from earlier. He might remember walking into this barn, but it wasn’t real._

_This was a dream. Castiel tried not to smile at the ingenuity these Angels possessed. They couldn’t find Castiel or the Winchesters due to the hex-bags. But as they say, the soul wanders in a dream. And Angels could find wandering souls. Castiel tried not to think about how that line of thought came so easily to him._

**_“You know why we need her.”_ ** _Annie all but gritted through her teeth. **“Why do you humans insist on having conversations on topics you already understand?”**_

**_“So_ ** _I am **human?”**  Castiel jabbed, pointing at Annie in curiosity as he walked around the barn slowly. The hay under his boots didn’t even crunch. His footsteps didn’t echo against the wood panels. Honestly, everything looked fuzzy outside the area that he and Annie were occupying currently.  **“Because I thought that was my Angel Grace hanging from the chain around your neck.”**_

_Just as Castiel said the words, he knew it was true. He saw the chain that was ever present but sometimes hidden under the collar of Annie’s blouse and gray coat. But it was clear in his dream now. The chain was there, and something blue glimmered near her third button, barely contained behind the cotton._

**_“No, this is Sarah’s Grace.”_ ** _Annie answered swiftly, hardly sparing a glance at the chain around her neck. **“Sarah disobeyed. That is why she fell. She would have stayed completely shielded from us for the rest of her human life were it not for the Apocalypse.”**_

**_“Oh really?”_ ** _Castiel wondered, and if his voice was layered with sarcasm, the Angel didn’t pick up on it. **“She was an innocent human when you tried to take her from us.”**_

**_“We knew you would try to awake her memories, just as Pamela did.”_ ** _Aniel retorted. **“Sarah cannot be allowed to roam the earth with the knowledge of her crimes. She must atone for her sins.”**_

_Castiel listened as though he were interested however his eyes never strayed from the silver chain around Annie’s neck. Now that Castiel could see it, he would know what to look for when the time came. It glowed slightly under Annie’s white shirt again, as if sensing that Castiel was staring. But then again, that could just be Castiel’s dream-mind. Castiel rolled Annie’s words in his mind for a few seconds._

**_“Since when is disobedience punishable by death?”_ ** _Castiel wondered._

_Annie blinked, confusion crossing her face for a few seconds, but Castiel saw it. He tapped his forehead gently. And if his smirk was proud, Annie said nothing._

**_“It was the ultimatum you gave Dean. You ordered he turn over Sarah, or you’d kill me and Sam. Sarah said the justice of Angels is resolute. An eye for an eye as it were, am I right?”_ ** _Castiel asked as he paced around the barn again. Annie’s eyes never left him and she turned as he dared walk around her back. **“My death and Sam’s would equate the punishment of Sarah’s crimes. So since when do Angels deal out punishments? And since when is disobedience punishable by death?”**_

**_“You would know nothing of our ways,”_ ** _Annie answered tightly. **“As you said, you are only human.”**_

_Castiel narrowed his eyes. Annie didn’t give him a chance to speak._

**_“Since you disagreed with the first deal, let me offer you this one instead,”_ ** _Annie’s dress shoes crunched against the few leaves scattered along the wooden planks of the floor as she stepped closer to him. Castiel was reminded how her amber-brown eyes could glow like fire. **“Either you tell us where the girl is, Castiel Novak, or we will kill Sam, and throw Dean straight back to damnation. Your choice.”**_

 

Castiel jolted upright as the dream broke away with a snap of Annie’s fingers. Sam’s hand pressed to his shoulder to keep him from lunging forward in his sleep. Castiel took a breath, nodding tightly to Sam as he was pulled to his feet. He scanned the barn hurriedly, taking in the scene.

Dean was holding his head as he sat on the step-up of a rusty, busted tractor. Sarah was perched on what was probably the wall of an old pen, but was now just half a wooden fence. Her stare was distant as she gazed up at the roof. When Castiel glanced up, he found a hole in the shingles, allowing the moon and starlight to cast down into the barn.

Dean finally shuffled over, his eyes red and he tugged on Castiel’s arm, pulling him away from Sarah and Sam.

“We got a problem.” Dean croaked. “Uriel gave me another choice. He said if we don’t hand Sarah over I’ll have to choose who they take. And he gave me until midnight—”

“Dean, that doesn’t matter,” Castiel promised, his fingers winding through Dean’s and squeezing tightly. Dean’s hands were cold, so Castiel passed his thumb over Dean’s knuckles in a small attempt to warm him. “Did Uriel wear a chain around his neck? One that glowed?”

“Um, yea.” Dean blinked after he thought for a minute, then nodded slowly. “Didn’t say whose it was though. I kinda bluffed. Told him Sarah had her mojo back, and he pulled out the necklace to show me I was wrong.”

“Did Sam get a hold of Ruby?” Castiel asked.

Dean only shrugged as an answer. Castiel sighed quietly, watching his breath fog in the cold autumn night.

“Now what?” Dean murmured.

“We give her an hour.” Castiel stated. “Then we burn the hex bags like we planned. You said Uriel gave you until midnight to make a decision?”

Dean nodded but he shifted roughly from one foot to the other. Castiel turned his wrist over, checking the time on his watch. It was a quarter to eleven.

“We’ll be cuttin’ it close.” Dean muttered. He shifted, his fingers falling from Castiel’s hands as he turned to walk away.

Castiel locked his fingers around Dean’s wrist, stalling his next step. “You’re not losing anyone tonight Dean.” Castiel told him, staring hard until Dean gave him a light smirk and some of the ice thawed between them.

“Yea,” Dean answered roughly. “Come on, let’s grab the guns from the car.”

 

 

**********

 

 

It didn’t feel like an hour had passed. It felt more like five minutes. But they’d stoked up, loaded the guns, waited. And nothing.

“Dean, I don’t like this.” Sam muttered as Dean flipped his lighter between his fingers.

“It’s the best game plan we’ve got.” Dean told him, tossing his hex back into the gravel where it continued to burn blue, then purple.

“We need to come up with a better playbook.” Sam sighed roughly, fishing his hex bag out form his jacket pocket and setting it aflame. “Sarah’s innocent. And we’re just going too—”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Dean muttered. “It won’t come to that. And if it does…” Dean trailed off, glancing over his shoulder at where Sarah was sitting and twisting her coat sleeves in her hands. “I got a feeling she can handle herself. You said it once before, Angels are warriors right? Don’t let the petite brunette look fool you.”

Sam followed Dean’s gaze over to the Angel, and then let his eyes trail back to his brother. “Are… are you scarred of Sarah because she chucked you across the panic room the other night?” Sam asked, laughing softly despite the smell of burning bones and yarrow beneath them.

“Dude she didn’t bat an eye.” Dean muttered defensively. He waved a hand while Sam continued to laugh quietly over the crackling fire at their feet and the cold wind blowing through the barn. “Damn near busted one of my stitches open too.” Dean added, rubbing his sore waist softly under his coat.

“Uh…guys.” Sarah called, her voice loud and panicked in the quiet night. “They’re coming!”

“Shit that was fast.” Dean swore under his breath as they hurried inside.

Castiel tossed Sam the salt-round sawed-off while Dean checked his clip. Not two seconds later, the barn doors flew open with a snap of ice-cold wind.

Uriel stepped inside first. He hadn’t changed since the last time they saw him back in October; same dark suit, same confident stride, and that same sardonic smirk on his face that he had in Dean’s dream. Annie was a step behind him. She seemed less than pleased that the trio of hunters stood between them and Sarah.

“Aww how cute.” Uriel chuckled. “Sarah you know Father would never let you keep your pet monkeys.”

“At least they’re loyal.” Sarah snipped, and she merely shrugged when Dean turned to glare softly over his shoulder.

“Why are you armed?” Annie asked, her gaze darting between Dean and Castiel. “You burned your protection. You wanted to comply with our arrangement. You should not be armed.”

Dean held back his smirk, looking over at Sam who kept the salt-gun tucked into his arm, then over at Castiel, who had his 9mm loaded and raised at the Angels.

“Whoever said we agreed to your terms?” Dean asked, taping the clip to his gun before slamming it loaded and cocking it back. “We know these can’t hurt you. But we’re actually waiting on a third party.”

“There was no third party.” Annie protested. She stepped forward only to be met with the end of Dean’s pistol.

“Oh really?” Dean asked. The back door blew open, and Dean almost sighed in relief. He watched as Annie’s eyes darted towards the door, confusion turning into righteous fury. “What took ya Ruby?” Dean wondered without turning his gaze from Annie.

“I was a bit tied up.” Ruby grumbled, her voice breathy and strained. Dean swallowed at the laugh that filled the room.

“Glad to see you were keeping the wings busy Dean-o.” Alistair crooned. Ruby gasped as a solid thud sounded behind Dean. “You can step down now sonny. We’ll take it from here.” The gun shook slightly as Dean’s hand twitched, but he lowered it slowly.

“You dare to call this scum here?” Uriel growled. “They have no business with us.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” Alistair protested. Dean could hear his heavy footsteps behind him, stepping closer and closer as he spoke until Dean could make out the dark navy sweater out of the corner of his eye. “We saw her first. Long before you glorified bastards got in the way.”

“You will be the first to burn.” Uriel snarled.

Dean moved quickly as Uriel and Alistair collided. Annie hardly seemed phased as the fighting started, holding her hand up to whatever demon dared to walk in front of her. A blinding light filled the night, and screams rang out from the demon that roasted under the Angel’s hand. The smell of burnt flesh seeped from the scorched corpses that dropped at the Annie’s feet.

“Okay, we gotta bail.” Dean spoke as he turned to face Sarah and Cas. He didn’t see the demons pouring in from the front door. But he saw Sam’s eyes grow wide.

“Down!” Sam shouted. Dean ducked as Sam let a round off over his shoulder.

Their protective circle around Sarah shattered as a demon caught hold of Castiel’s jacket and tossed him across the barn. Dean felt the crack of Castiel’s shoulder against a support beam two seconds before the same demon caught a hold of Dean’s arm. Dean let off three rounds into the demon’s chest, giving Sam enough time to turn with the salt round and blast him in the back.

“Sam!” Ruby shouted from somewhere. Dean didn’t have time to look.

Alistair had broken free from Uriel and was stalking towards Cas. The hunter was having a hard time getting to his feet. And Alistair was heading right towards him. Dean felt his chest constrict, and his gun was raised before he could even think.

One. Two. Three. Four. The rounds sounded off loud as Dean kept his gun clutched tight in his hands. The bullets struck Alistair’s back, making the demon halt in his tracks while blood oozed from the holes in his dark jacket. Cas jolted in surprise, picking his head up in time to see Alistair roll his shoulders.

White eyes turned on Dean.

**_White eyes that burned like the yellow and orange fire. White eyes that smiled and laughed in his ears._ **

No, it wasn’t the eyes now that made Dean’s blood run cold. It was the vindictive smirk. That smile that turned into a snarl with each step that Alistair made. The snarl that flashed teeth as white and sharp as his eyes. Dean froze as Alistair’s head twisted in disapproval as he glanced down at the blood cascading in rivulets down his dress shirt. 

“Damn it Dean.” Alistair growled. Dean shivered at the sound, clutching his empty gun tighter to keep the tremble out of his hands. “I really thought you were making progress. But I was wrong. No matter,” Alistair sighed as he stomped closer. Dean couldn’t move. Not even when Alistair’s hand clamped tight over his throat. “I expect to see you bright and early for class tomorrow.”

“Like Hell.” Castiel growled. Somehow he had the demon blade in his hands, and he lunged forward, driving the blade hard into Alistair’s chest. The demon lost his grip on Dean’s throat as red lightning flashed up his side. The blade didn’t kill him, but Alistair’s face twisted into a harsh grimace.  

“That smarts.” Alistair snarled, wincing when Castiel twisted the blade in his chest. Dean stepped back just as Castiel tore the blade from the demon’s back. Alistair turned, and Dean felt like he was going to be sick. Alistair swung his fist at Castiel, which the hunter ducked, but it was a ploy to snatch the demon blade from him.

“No!” Dean yelled as Alistair raised the blade behind his head.

“Castiel!” Sarah shouted.

Dean whirled in enough time to see a necklace flying through the air. He reached up to catch the chain as Sarah threw another one at her feet. Dean gasped as the grace poured out of the shattered glass.

The white smoke swirled around Sarah like fog. She took a deep breath as the bright essence poured into her mouth and nose. The light pulsed inside of her, threatening to shatter her, to break her completely. Annie propped herself up on her elbows, watching as Sarah staggered a few steps away from her.

“Shut your eyes.” She warned. The light flashed again. It was growing brighter as it pulsed like a heartbeat against Sarah’s chest. She clutched it tightly though as she shouted again. “Shut your eyes!” She screamed. The light was blinding. Dean ducked his head into his arms.

That damn ringing came back, and something hot flared up Dean’s arm. He winced, letting go of the necklace as it burned in his hands.

“Dean!” Sam’s shout of warning was too late.

The glass shattered at his feet. Fire licked up his legs. It burned into his knees and his chest. It made him gasp and heat soured into his lungs. Dean thought it was the flames again. Alistair was here, he had Cas, and the fires were back, burning his skin. Maybe he never left Hell. Maybe it had all been another one of Alistair’s tricks. Maybe this time, the fire would kill him. Dean took a deeper breath, trying to draw the fire in, wanting it to burn him from the inside out.

Cold air smacked into him. Someone had grabbed his collar and torn him away from the fire. His knees hit the floor, but he couldn’t see it. The fire was blinding. He couldn’t open his eyes. He didn’t want to either. He didn’t want to see the scorched skin or the red, the black of his bleeding skin and scorched bones. The heat was gone, but the light was there. He could see it even with his eyes closed. The light burned up his arms, into his eyes, his chest, down to his finger tips. Dean was gripping at straws on the floor. He tried to suck in the cold air around him but he couldn’t breathe. He tried to move, tried to sit up, to breathe.

“Don’t!” Castiel shouted when Dean went to his head towards the fire.

Cas was burning. It was Cas, and Dean could feel it. There were flames licking up his arms, his legs, pouring into his heart and his throat. Dean was choking on it. The flash pulsed, and the heat was gone. Dean sucked in a breath as his whole body gave out.

“Dean? Dean?! Hey, hey. You with me?” Sam asked. His hands were keeping Dean from crashing face first into the ground. He felt weak. His fingers tingled and zinged like he’d poked a metal fork into an open outlet. His vision was blurry, like he’d stared into the sun.

Slowly, Sam’s frame came into focus. His worried eyes were glossy, his forehead was creased into a frown, and Dean felt his hands holding his shoulder and his neck.

“Dean? Say something.” Sam demanded, but his voice warbled.

Dean blinked again, forcing his vision to work as he glanced around the dark barn.

There were dead bodies across the floor, but the Angels were gone. So was Sarah. And so was Cas. It was just him and Sam that he could see. Dean winced as the feeling slowly started coming back to his arms and his legs. He flexed his fingers stiffly, reaching up to Sam’s coat cuff, grasping it loosely.

“Lightning.” Dean murmured. His throat felt raw.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Feel like I got hit…” Dean forced out, wincing slightly.

“By lightning.” Sam finished, nodding to show he understood. “Yea, I got it. I’m pretty sure it was something like that.” Sam chuckled lightly, but there was something fearful in his voice still. “Come on, we need to get out of here.”

Sam pulled at Dean, one hand grasping his jacket, and one hand wrapping under his arm to haul onto his feet. Dean stumbled as he tried to push against his feet, to stand on his own. His legs felt like jelly mixed with too much tequila. Sam hooked Dean’s arm up over his shoulder so all Dean had to do was lean against his brother. For once, Dean let out a brief of relief and let his eyes slip shut.

 

 

 

\-------------------------------

 

 

 

Dean slept.

Sam told himself it was fine. Dean was just tired. They’d had a stressful week, and having Cas turn into an Angel couldn’t be easy to go through, so sleep wasn’t a bad thing. For the first day, Sam made sure the rent for their room was paid in full for at least the next thirty-six hours. He grabbed lunch for himself at the diner a block away and dinner for Dean just in case. But the first night, Dean didn’t wake up.

The second morning, Sam debated loading the Impala and driving back home, or booking the room for another night. Dean hadn’t budged. Only the steady rise and fall of his chest told Sam he was okay, while the image of Cas flashing into oblivion tried to convince him otherwise. But maybe Dean really needed the rest. Another night in a motel might be for the best. These beds were actually comfortable, the sheets weren’t too scratchy either, and the t.v. had basic cable. One more night wouldn’t hurt.

The third afternoon passed and Sam had to get Dean home. Carrying Dean to the car wasn’t exactly difficult. But the fact that he hardly budged, didn’t even stir as Sam put him in the back seat, made Sam more worried. As he drove out of the parking lot and onto the highway back west, Sam called Bobby.

_“Sam? I was starting to get worried boy.”_

“Sorry Bobby. I shoulda called sooner…” Sam admitted as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

 _“You boys okay?”_  Bobby asked quietly.

“Sorta.” Sam muttered.

_“What happened?”_

“Sarah got her Grace back.” Sam explained with a heavy sigh. “She’s kinda MIA though. So is Cas.” Sam added.

_“And Dean?”_

“He’s out cold.” Sam tossed a glance at the rear-view mirror. Sure enough, Dean was right where Sam left him; his head was still resting on his bunched up jacket, propped up against the passenger-side door. “I caught a glimpse of the Grace. It was almost like a possession. You know how demons are all black smoke? Well think that, but white light, blinding heat, and then Sarah disappeared. Same thing happened to Cas. Dean’s been out ever since.”

 _“He’ll be fine Sam.”_  Bobby said, but he didn’t sound too sure.  _“Angel Grace ain't the same as demon possession, that Grace was a part of 'em. I’m sure they could handle it.”_

“I hope you’re right Bobby,” Sam sighed deeply. “We’re heading back to your place now. Should be there late tonight. Tomorrow morning at the latest.”

 _“I’ll keep a few ones cold for ya.”_   **Click.**

Sam put his phone down on the bench seat, and drove for the rest of the day. When Sam hit the six-hour mark, he had to pull over for coffee. He didn’t exactly want to stop and rent another room, but he needed to stretch, get some food, and definitely some caffeine. The next gas station would have to do.

Sam grabbed one of the to-go salads, two ice-coffees and an energy bar for the road. He paid for everything, and left the gas-station store with a tired shove against the door. He barely made it three steps to the Impala when Ruby ran into him.

“Sam! There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” She gasped. “Are you alright?”

“My brother’s passed out in the back seat and his match might be dead,” Sam muttered roughly, brushing past the demon and stalking back to the car.

“So you’re pissed at me for that?” Ruby asked. She trailed after him, practically at a jog to keep up with his long strides. “In case you didn’t notice, I had to go to  _Alistair_  in order for your little plan to work.”

The way Ruby said that name made Sam slow his gait. That had been the demon leading the pack at the barn, and the same demon from the church that attacked them. It was the same demon that somehow knew Dean.

“What is it about this Alistair?” Sam asked.

“They call him the Grand Inquisitor downstairs.” Ruby murmured softly. “Makes Hannibal Lector look like a prissy baker and Freddy Kroger a trick-or-treat twink daydream.” She crossed her arms over her chest as she stared at him. “And I went under his knife for you so that you could get Sarah’s grace back. Which worked.”

“Yea, but Cas is missing.” Sam gritted through his teeth, glancing back at Dean. He was still asleep. He hadn’t budged one bit. “And Dean’s in a coma. Again.”

“You’re brother is strong Sam,” Ruby said. “He’ll pull through this.”

“I’m not so sure.” Sam admitted quietly. “I’ve never seen Dean freeze up on a case. But as soon as Alistair was there…” Sam shook his head gently, rolling his lips together with a soft breath. “He’s not all here. And now that Cas is gone…”

Ruby stared at him with soft eyes as her hand slid over his arm. It crept up to his shoulder, something that used to be soothing, used to be reassuring. Now, it burned. Sam swallowed the bile that rose in his throat as Ruby’s fingers skirted closer to his mark. He pulled away from her slowly.

“Ruby. I can’t. I can’t do this anymore.” He told her sharply, with a jerk of his head. “I’ll work with you if it’s against Lilith, or the seals. But that’s it. No more blood. No more…this.”

“Sam, I’m just trying to help.” Ruby told him and Sam nodded as he walked back towards the car.

“Fine. But those are my terms now.” Sam stated. “Take it or leave it.” He didn’t give her time to answer. He got into the Impala, started it, and drove out of the gas station.

 

 

\-------------------

 

 

In the morning when he rolled up Bobby’s drive way, his uncle was waiting at the door, holding it open so Sam could carry Dean into the house. Sam held back a chuckle at the sight of his Uncle up and walking like he hadn’t spent the last seven years confined in a wheel chair. It still surprised him.

Bobby had the living room back in order, which mean the metal table was down in the cellar, books were staked everywhere, but at least the couch was empty. Sam eased his brother down into the cushions gently. It didn’t seem to matter though. Dean hardly even mumbled in his sleep.

“He’s been like this for three days now?” Bobby asked, handing Sam a blanket to toss over the man.

“Yea.” Sam agreed. “He was standing pretty close to Cas when the guy graced up but he was conscious for a little while after it happened. Said it felt like he’d been hit by lightning. He was out before I got us to the car.”

“And Cas is missin’?” Bobby murmured.

Sam nodded slowly, his gaze locked onto Dean’s sleeping face. Nothing seemed strange about it. He hadn’t been hurt during the scramble, which was a miracle considering their last run in with those demons.

Dean’s stitches from their Church fall flashed into his mind. Shit. How could he forget about those?

“Could you grab me a kit?” Sam asked softly, moving the jacket and Dean’s three layers of shirts aside. He pulled away the bandages to see the wound in Dean’s side. Cas must have redone them before they left for Ohio. They looked fine. Actually, the longer Sam stared at them, the more it seemed like Dean was completely healed.

“Uh. Bobby? You seeing this?” Sam wondered, because after he blinked, the stitches disappeared.

“That’s new.” Bobby muttered.

“Help me lift him up. He had two on his back.” Sam murmured. Sure enough, those were completely gone as well. Nothing was left but a thin white scar to show that Dean was ever injured. “You think maybe Dean got a bit of Cas’ grace? Could that be what’s healing him? Maybe that’s why he’s been out cold?”

“Sam, your guess is as good as mine.” Bobby sighed as he pulled Dean’s shirt back down and eased him into the sofa. “If that’s the case though, all we can do is give him time. He’ll wake up on his own.”

 

 

\---------------

 

 

_C **as? That you?**_

**_Yes. I’m here Dean._ **

**_Where? Where are we?_ **

**_I’m not sure. Tell me what you see._ **

**_A dock, out on a lake. Wait, I know this place. Bobby used to take us out fishing here…_ **

_Colors swirled into focus, and sure enough, they were sitting on the edge of a dock, pants rolled up to their knees, feet skimming the surface of the dark blue lake beneath them. Dean had a fishing rod in his hands, the line cast out far into the murky water._

_Dean turned to find Cas sitting at his side. He smiled peacefully but it only lasted for a second. There was light all around Cas’ head, like he had a candle hovering at the back of his neck._

**_I’m dreaming._ ** _Dean guessed. **We’ve never been here together.**_

**_We should go sometime. This almost seems like a memory. Tell me about it Dean?_ ** _Cas stretched back with a content sigh, pressing his palms back into the dock as he looked around curiously. Every way his head turned, the light seemed to follow._

**_Bobby liked getting away now and then. Said being outdoors was like recharging a battery_ ** _. Dean explained, smiling at the fishing rod in his hands. He gave it a small tug, but otherwise left it alone. **We started coming here every summer or so. Just for weekends, never any longer. Actually, now that I think about it, the cabin we used to stay in was probably one of Bobby’s safe houses. It’s just up that hill.** Dean turned to glance over his shoulder, but there was nothing except the dock and a grassy-green mound._

_Cas grinned when Dean turned to face him. **It’s peaceful here. Sometimes I wish Balthazar had taken us to places like this. Although, he wouldn’t like it here very much.**_

**_Why not?_ **

**_Balthazar was terrified of water._ ** _Castiel laughed quietly, but there was a sad turn to his smile._

**_Water? Seriously? The big bad Balthazar_ ** _—_

**_Lost his daughter to a river demon_ ** _. Cas answered._

**_Balthazar had a daughter?_ ** _Dean half whispered._

**_Why do you think he took me in after my family was murdered?_ ** _Cas asked. His head tilted to the side curiously, the light bobbing as he did so. For some reason, the motion only reminded Dean of Annie. Before he had a chance to follow that thought, Cas’ voice rang aloud again. **He only told me the story once, after downing nearly a whole bottle of Bacardi. He was twenty-five when he found out he was a father. Maribelle was two at the time. He spent three years with her, and her mother. He was teaching her to swim in the river not far from their house but he didn’t know the river was plagued by a demon. It was the ten-year anniversary of the demon’s demise, his daughter was five, every five years there was a death—a child drowning. That year, it ended up being Maribelle. Balthazar saw the whole thing. Started hunting a few months later and two years after that, he found me**. _

_Dean frowned as he listened. Only now did he realize that they were speaking, but they didn’t need their voices. Not once in that entire story did Cas’ lips move. He simply sat back on his hands, eyes closed in contentment, head craned to the warm sun as Dean listened to a story he’d never heard. Cas was right, this place was peaceful and comforting._

_But, it was a dream. The last time they had shared a dream like this together, it was after the demon possessing Balthazar had stabbed Dean through the chest three years ago. Dean had been in a coma. And for the life of him, Dean couldn’t remember anything before this dream started. That couldn’t be good._

**_Cas, what happened?_ ** _Dean asked gently. **Are we…is this…?**_

**_We’re alive._ ** _Cas reassured him. **When Sarah threw you my grace, she didn’t expect it to react to your touch. I doubt she expected you to catch it actually.**_

_As Cas talked, bits and pieces flashed in Dean’s mind. Little five-second clips was all he could see though. He saw Sarah snatching a necklace from around Annie’s neck and shouting for Castiel as she threw it across the barn. He saw himself reaching up for the chain._

**_But I did. I remember catching it just before Sarah went nuclear._ ** _Dean remembered, the memory was bright and fuzzy in his mind, but it was there nonetheless._

_Cas hummed in agreement, his head still craned to the sun like a lazy cat. If Dean didn’t know any better, he would say the light he could see around Cas’ head was just light from the sun bouncing off the lake around them. But when Cas tilted his head, the light followed._

**_You dropped the vial._ ** _Cas sighed. **My grace reacted to you. It thought you were my human vessel, because of the bond we share. It tried to latch onto your soul. It would have burned you out if I didn’t pull you away.**_

**_So…you went nuclear too?_ ** _Dean guessed slowly._

_Cas rolled his neck tenderly, the light behind his head curving to follow the movement effortlessly. Maybe that’s what the light was. Maybe it was Cas’ grace. Cas opened his eyes finally to stare at Dean. They were the brightest blue Dean had ever seen. Almost glowing._

**_To keep you safe._ ** _Cas explained, a small smile on his face. **Because of our bond, your body snapped at the loss of a physical connection to me. I’m doing my best to keep you alive and heal you at the moment.**_

**_Then you really are an Angel?_ ** _Dean asked. His voice sounded like it wavered, even though he never opened his lips to speak._

_Castiel’s gaze darted away from his face, staring out towards the lake. **Yes. And before you ask, no I don’t remember why I fell. I have only vague memories of Heaven. Things are…hazy at best. As if someone scrubbed them clean before I was cast down.**_

**_Why would someone do that?_ ** _Dean wondered._

_Cas’ grin was wicked when he turned to face Dean again. **I intend to find out.**  Cas promised._ _He leaned forward, pressing a heavy kiss to Dean’s lips. It was warm and bright, making Dean gasp as he felt Cas’ tongue tracing his lips eagerly._

**_You trust me Dean?_ ** _Cas asked, but the kissing didn’t stop._

**_You know I do._ ** _Dean answered, feeling a bit strange that he didn’t have to pull away from Castiel’s embrace to answer. He leaned forward to deepen the kiss, feeling Cas hum against his lips._

**_Then wake up._ ** _Slowly, Castiel pulled back. Dean’s bottom lip was trapped lightly between his teeth, but the Angel broke away from the kiss to smile warmly at Dean._

**_I…I want to stay._ ** _Dean admitted, the thought slipping from him before he could stop it._

_Castiel’s smile never wavered._ _**Sam’s worried about you. I’ve healed all that I can.**  Cas explained.  **Wake up Dean. I promise I’ll find you as soon as I’m able. Wake up.**_

_Castiel pressed a hand to his shoulder and shoved him roughly._

_Dean fumbled over the edge of the dock, splashing into the cold water—_

 

 

*************

 

 

Sam jolted when Dean suddenly shot up in the couch. His brother was gasping for breath like he’d nearly drowned, arms outstretched in panic. Sam caught his wrist and his shoulder, keeping Dean steady on the couch. Dean panted, glancing at him with a wide gleam in his eyes, but Sam had a feeling Dean wasn’t really seeing anything right now. Dean swayed the next instant, but Sam held him still.

“Easy, I got you.” Sam murmured softly. He eased Dean back against the sofa, and Dean moved willingly, grasping Sam’s arm like he was the only life line. “You’ve been out for a while. We’re home.” Sam explained when Dean glanced around in confusion.

“Cas?” Dean rasped. His voice sounded terrible, and Sam winced inwardly as Dean rubbed his throat.

Wordlessly, Sam handed him what was left of the water bottle on the coffee table. Dean took the bottle as he let go of Sam’s sleeve and eased further into the sofa. He downed the remaining water in three greedy gulps when Sam nodded to the bottle again. Dean only coughed once after the last sip.

“What happened?” Dean asked. He sounded a little better, but not by much. At least now he was relaxing back against the couch rather than perching on the edge of the seat.

Sam rolled his lips between his teeth, watching Dean carefully. He’d asked for Cas right off the back. That wasn’t a good sign. Sam took a deep breath as he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.

“Dean, what exactly do you remember?” He wondered. Sam could tell that did nothing to reassure his brother.

“Ohio. The old crusty barn and the Angel-Demon death match.” Dean muttered.

Sam nodded to show he was listening. Dean winced though, and he rubbed at his eyes like he had a headache. Sam waited until his hand fell back to his side before talking again.

“Anything else?” Sam pushed gently.

“It’s hazy.” Dean admitted, blinking at the afternoon sunlight filling the room. He squinted then winced again. This time, he held his temple. “It’s like trying to remember a dream. Nothing’s sticking.”

“Okay, take it easy.” Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder gently. “Like I said, you’ve been outta it for a while.”

“How long?” Dean asked.

Sam rolled his lips. “Five days.”

“What?” Dean snapped.

“Yea, man. You were starting to get ripe too.” Sam teased, but the joke did nothing to sooth his brother. Instead, Dean lurched up from the couch, spinning once as he stood in the middle of the living room.

“Where’s Cas?” Dean asked roughly. Sam sighed in defeat as Dean stomped from the room. “Cas?” Dean called as he walked.

“Dean, he’s not here!” Sam shouted over his shoulder. “He’s missing. So is Sarah.”

“Missing?” Dean circled back into the living room from the kitchen. “What do you mean missing?”

Sam watched as Dean froze in the middle of the kitchen doorway. He stared blankly at the floor, then his eyes screwed shut tightly. He doubled forward, swaying as he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“Yea, you’re sitting the fuck down before you pass out on me again.” Sam ordered, at Dean’s side the next instant.

Dean hardly fought him as Sam shoved his big brother back into the sofa. “Fuck this shit—ANNIE! Get your feathered ass down here!” Dean shouted to the roof. At this rate, Sam had a feeling his brother would make himself hoarse all over again.

“I already tried that.” Sam muttered. “The Angels aren’t answering us.”

“They better fucking answer right now,” Dean warned. “Or I’m gonna raise Hell. YOU HEAR THAT ANNIE?” Dean shouted again, his face flushing pink at the threat. “I’ll raise Hell if you don’t get down here right the fuck now!”

“Is that so?”

Sam jolted at the cold voice that sounded behind him. He turned in his chair to see Annie, leaning against the kitchen doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. With the window at her back, most of Annie’s face was cast in a shadow, but there was no missing the fire in her eyes as she stared between Sam and Dean.

“I’m curious to see you try actually.” Annie continued, her voice still collected but cold. “That would be a new incredibly unintelligent feat for you Winchesters.”

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the fluffy white cloud today.” Dean snipped back, meeting the Angel’s glare easily.

“Dean.” Sam warned. Now was so not the time for his brother to play who-had-the-bigger-stick. Annie looked pissed, and Sam couldn’t blame her. At the start of the week, they’d basically betrayed her by calling demons to their meeting.

“Where’s Cas?” Dean pushed, ignoring Sam’s warning completely.

“I don’t know.” Annie snapped. “And because of your actions, we now have two rouge Angels to track down, in addition to keeping Lilith’s forces from breaking Lucifer free. All the while my brothers and sisters are being slaughtered like animals—”

“What?” Sam whispered, but it was fearful enough that Annie sucked in a breath.

She clamped her jaw shut and turned her glare out to the window letting silence take over the room. Annie’s shoulder rose and fell with each heavy breath she took, and Sam was almost sure it was just the lighting that made her eyes glow. He couldn’t shake the feeling of the air crackling quietly in the room though. Dean caught his eye for a second and Sam nodded stiffly towards the Angel still staring out the window.

“Look, Annie,” Dean cleared his throat as he spoke. “We’re still part of Angel Army. Sarah was an innocent and you know saving good people comes first. Isn’t that part of what made you guys believe I was this Righteous Man? Give us some slack alright? We’re only human.”

Slowly, Annie turned her gaze away from the bright window, following the beams of sunlight where they rested on the coffee table near Dean’s knees. Her hands were still clamped tight on her upper arms, keeping them crossed over her chest, as if that would help her keep back the information that was making her so upset.

“Annie, tell us what happened.” Dean spoke up again, and it was just enough of an order that Annie glared up in defiance. “Maybe we can help.” Dean offered, holding his hand up gently.

“Three of my sisters and two of my brother have died this week.” Annie explained. The edge was still in her voice, but at least now it didn’t feel so cold to Sam. Her jaw was tight as she spoke. “They were all from my garrison. Hunted down and murdered.”

“Demons?” Dean guessed. Annie’s eyes bore into him, bright auburn flashing like fire in the afternoon sunlight. “I’m just spit-balling ideas here. You guys were holding your own last we saw you. How could a demon get the jump on an Angel?”

“Normally, they can’t.” Annie spoke tightly again. “The demon in question would have to be powerful.”

“How powerful?” Sam wondered. He refused to look at his brother. They both knew. It was the same question Dean had asked him and Cas when they worked out the plan to get Sarah’s grace back. Dean had a point though. Even with the Angels taken by surprise, they held their own against the eight or so demons that Alistair showed up with that night. There was something else. Another reason Annie was here. But she wasn’t going to tell them right off the back.

“Very.” Annie answered tightly. Sam tried to suck in a quiet breath. Annie knew. Her eyes flickered between the brothers sharply, accusation clear on her face as she stepped away from the door frame. She paced across the room, as the air crackled quietly again. She stood in front of Bobby’s desk, dropping her arms at her side as she turned to face them. Sam couldn’t help but think the pose looked like she was standing at attention. “Which is why, despite your claims to raise Hell, I was sent here. For you, Dean.”

Dean balked at the statement. “Come again?”

“We have Alistair in our custody.” Annie explained as she straightened her back. “We believe he knows who or what is responsible for the murders. At the very least, he should know Lilith’s whereabouts and the seals she’s targeting. However, gaining information from him has proven,” Annie’s tongue passed over her lips as she considered her next word. “Difficult.”

Sam glanced between his brother and the Angel. Ruby’s words ran in his mind.  _The Grand Inquisitor_. If Alistair was a master of torture, then it was no surprise that the Angels weren’t getting anything out of him. But, why would they need Dean? Sam’s gaze flickered over to his brother. He’d never seen Dean so tense. His fists were holding the edges of the sofa like his life depended on it and his shoulders shifted as he shook his head gently.

“You don’t want me doing this.” Dean ground the words out like his teeth were glued together.

“We have no other choice.” Annie told him. “I am not in favor of this plan, but these are my orders.” Annie admitted softly. “I have to bring you in now.” Annie stepped forward with a hand, and Sam jumped in her way.

“He’s not going anywhere.” Sam stated. “He just woke up from a five-day coma, and you want him to do what exactly?”

“Your brother, despite what he may want to believe, was one of Alistair’s prodigies in Hell.” Annie spoke as frankly as if she were talking about the weather rather than Dean’s time in Hell. “I saw it myself. He is the only one even capable of getting the necessary information from Alistair.”

“I don’t care if he’s the rebellion’s last hope.” Sam growled. “He’s not going anywhere today.”

Annie glared at him, and any other time, Sam would feel stupid for towering over an Angel who had the power to smite him where he stood. But after seeing how Dean had woken up, staggering and confused, Sam would be damned if he let this Angel put Dean in a room with any demon, let alone Alistair. Annie sighed tightly but she took a step back.

“You have twelve hours.” She told him. “We can’t waste any more time than that. Angels are dying.”

“Add it to the list.” Sam muttered, but between one blink and the next, Annie was gone. Sam sighed in relief, turning slowly to see Dean leaning forward over the coffee table with his head buried in his hands. It looked like his brother was about to be sick. “Dean?”

“Sammy, she’s right.” Dean’s voice trembled and it set Sam on edge. Dean’s voice never trembled like that. Dean picked his head up slowly, his eyes strained red from holding back tears. “You were right. I remember everything from Hell.”

The news didn’t surprise him. Not exactly. But it still felt like a punch to the gut. Or like something sharp dug into his chest and just stayed there. Dean stared back down at his hands in his lap, and that sharpness in his chest didn’t lessen.  

“Shit.” Sam whispered. He sank heavily into his chair as the words rang over in his head. Dean remembered Hell. “All six months?” Sam murmured gently.

Dean took a shaky breath as he rubbed his jaw. “It was six months for you guys here but, uh, down there—” Dean coughed to clear his throat. His voice wasn’t as shaky as he spoke. “Time wasn’t real there. It felt like years, decades, a fucking half century rolled into one. And, Alistair was there. He was always there.” Dean laughed but it was brittle, lifeless, bitter. He stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds, but Sam knew that smirk was forced. Sam bit his lip, keeping quiet, letting Dean talk however he wanted.

“At first, I didn’t know it was Hell. Thought it was just a fucking long-ass nightmare. Each time it was another damn hunt that went wrong—so fucking wrong.” Dean explained quietly.

A hunt going horribly wrong usually only meant one thing for Dean—Sam or Cas had died. Sam felt his fingers clenched softly at his side.

“But it was Alistair,” Dean muttered. “Putting shit in my head and giving me my own personal slice of Hell. He found every dark spot, every goddamn fear I had and threw it at me for years. But he slipped up one day and I knew it couldn’t be real. That’s when he gave in, showed me the real Hell and I was on this rack…”

Dean swallowed thickly, and Sam was caught on the idea of Dean’s worst fears coming to life. He was caught on the idea that decades had passed while Dean was stuck in Hell. His brother was forced to relive a never-ending nightmare; to watch his brother and match die, over and over again. That for six months they had left him, tortured in Hell, but for Dean it felt like a century. Sam had left his brother in Hell for a hundred years.

“I wasn’t alone.” Dean’s voice brought Sam out of his thoughts, and he nodded to show he was listening. “There were others on the racks all around, all the fucking time. Screaming, begging and crying, burning…” Dean winced as he spoke.

Sam remembered nights where Dean woke up shaking. He remembered campfires that Dean shied away from during camping trips. He remembered the Devil’s Gate in Wyoming, letting out Hell fire, and the cemetery filling with the stench of sulfur and brimstone. They had left Dean in that Hell for six months. No, a century.

“It was the same for everyone. I was stuck on that goddamn rack and they would tear me apart.” Dean’s voice was tight, his lips twitching as he spoke, his fingers digging into the sofa. “Like a hog. Over and over and over, until there was hardly nothing left.” Dean took in a shaky breath. “And Alistair would show up, asking if I wanted out. He’d give me a choice, the same one after every fucking day. I could get off the rack, but only if I put other souls on mine.”

Sam rubbed his lips as the words barreled into him. Alistair had his brother for decades. The Grand Inquisitor had torn his brother to pieces. The bastard forced Dean into pain and suffering Sam could barely understand, but he saw the aftermath. He saw how Dean’s hands shook in fists at his side. He saw how Dean’s lip trembled around his words, how the tears formed at the corners of his eyes. How his shoulders were broken, weighed down and heavy from all these memories he carried with him.

“For thirty-eight years I told him to go fuck himself.” Dean admitted, giving Sam that brittle laugh again. “I wasn’t going to torture people like this. I told myself I could take it. I told myself no one else deserved this bullshit, no one else deserved this fucking pain. If saying no, meant that I got to save some poor shmuck from dealing with my fate, then so be it. Thirty-eight years I said no. But there was one day…” Dean stopped. He tossed his gaze to the ceiling, taking in a deep breath. He shook his head roughly as he dropped his head back into his hands.  

“Dean, you don’t have to tell me.” Sam murmured.

Dean rubbed his face roughly and gave Sam a quick nod.  “Yea I do.” Dean said. “You were right. I’ve been keeping this from you, and from Cas. There’s a reason for that.”

Sam sucked in a breath at how hard Dean’s gaze shifted back to the coffee table. He nodded slightly, staying silent as Dean opened his mouth to speak again.

“Alistair found my real weakness.” Dean muttered. “He was the one calling all the shots. I know that now. But down there, it was different. He could do things that aren’t possible here. He…” Dean’s voice cracked on the word. He stopped, clenched his hands, took a deep breath as he stared down at his hands. “He made it seem like it was you and Cas on the racks next to me.”

Sam knew his jaw was falling open, but he couldn’t stop it. His blood ran cold as Dean let out a breath, still looking down at the floor. Alistair had made Dean see them? Dean had to watch as Alistair torment him and Cas? Sam fought back the shudder than ran down his spine, and he clutched his hands tight to keep back the tremble. There was more that Dean wanted to see, Sam could tell from the way Dean rolled his knuckles against his knees.

“Alistair said you two never made it past the Hell Hounds that were after me,” Dean spoke as strong as he could, but his voice was raspy. “He said Lilith had you guys dragged down along with me. He’d make me watch as he tore you two apart in front of me.”

Sam rubbed his face, pressing his knuckles to his lips as he leaned forward in his chair. That was Dean’s Hell. Alistair had kept Dean tied down to a table, had forced him to watch as hi tortured the two people he loved.

Dean glanced up at him briefly, and the thought sunk into Sam’s stomach. Torture.

Sam closed his eyes, letting out the breath he’d held back. There were words, apologies, on the tip of Sam’s tongue, but before he could get them out, Dean spoke up again.

“When I got to thinking it was another fucking trick, Alistair switched it up again. The next day, you had the blade.” Dean’s voice grew quiet, and he wouldn’t look up at Sam as he spoke. He kept his gaze glued to the coffee table as he ran his fingers through his hair, clutching the back of his neck tightly. “You were the one dicing me up. Then the next day it was Cas. Sometimes it was both of you. Each time you guys would tell me it could be over if I gave up, all I had to do was take your hand.”

The tear didn’t slip out of Dean’s grip until he picked his head up to see Sam staring in shock and disbelief. No, Sam thought. He could never—they could never—

Sam remembered the motel room in Pontiac. He remembered how stiff Dean had been when he found out that they tortured demons for ways to get into Hell. Then the memory of how Dean froze when he found Sam in the auto shop with Ruby and a demon bound in iron. Then the motel, after they fell from the church window. He remembered Dean shaking when he’d pulled the pieces of glass out of Dean’s back with a pair of tweezers. He remembered how Dean had twitched away from Cas’ hands, how Dean had quietly begged him to stop stitching his wound. This was why. Dean had remembered Hell.

“Dean we wouldn’t—”

“I know Sammy,” Dean brushed the tear away roughly.  “But that was the trick. Seeing you both so…so fucked up, so twisted and broken. That was it. How could I be any fucking better? After that last year, I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t think. I got off that rack Sammy. I took your hand, I got off so fucking fast and I threw souls onto my rack—” Dean’s voice grew rough, hoarse as the words spilled from his mouth. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “And I tore them apart. Alistair showed me how. I did everything exactly as he said. I twisted, I carved, I burned and I bled them out until there were pieces in my fingertips.”

Dean’s true Hell, the Hell that made him shatter, was Sam and Cas taking turns torturing him. Sam swallowed thickly as the images flashed into his mind and he shook his head. Sam had to say something. He swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head softly when Dean looked up at him.

“Dean, you held out for forty years,” Sam whispered. “Some people wouldn’t make it that far. You said it yourself that Alistair twisted your world down there. He made you see whatever he wanted so you would do those things. That wasn’t on you Dean.”

Dean rubbed his face clear of the tears, but his jaw was clenched tight at Sam’s words. “Doesn’t matter Sammy,” Dean murmured. “Didn’t matter if Alistair twisted the world. As soon as I got off that rack, as soon as I picked up that fucking knife, I enjoyed every damn minute of it. The freedom, the power—” Dean took a breath, shaking his head roughly again as he lost his words.

“You don’t have to do this,” Sam told him quietly.

“Annie was right. I’m the only one who can.” Dean muttered roughly.

“No, you’re not.” Sam forced the words out as strongly as he can. “I can do it.”

“Alistair will rip you to shreds.” Dean told him flat out. “I’m not letting you in a room with him.”

“Dean, when you walked in on me and Ruby at the garage, you didn’t see anything.” Sam told him quietly. He watched as the memory came back to his brother, the cold anger settling in his eyes at the mention of Ruby. It all made so much sense now. The way Dean reacted to hearing that Cas tortured demons for information on Hell; how Dean had shut down after seeing Sam with the demon at the shop. He’d seen them torturing in Hell, and they’d nearly done it right before his eyes here in the real world.

“I can take care of Alistair.” Sam snapped his brother’s gaze from the coffee table at his words, and he didn’t shy away from the harsh glare. “I can get under his skin. Literally.”

“No.” Dean growled. “That means demon blood and you swore off the juice Sammy!”

“I got a little left in me,” Sam admitted with a shrug, ignoring the way his head throbbed at the mention of using his powers. “I’m not letting you in that room alone with him. Think about it this way. He knows you. Cas is gone, you’re barely holding yourself up right now, and Alistair will know to use that against you. With me there—”

Dean was shaking his head again. “I can’t deal with Alistair if you’re there. If I do this, you can’t be in the same room with me.” Dean rolled his jaw gently, brushing the last few tears from his face.

“If I’m there, you can’t slip either.” Sam added softly. “Dean, you’re not a monster. And I’m not going to let you become one. You’ve always watched out for me when we were kids, and especially now that we’re hunters. But you gotta know I’ve got your back too man. We’ve always been in this together. That’s not changing any time soon.”

Dean was quiet, but at least he gave Sam something that looked like a real smile. He stared down at his hands, then frowned, turning his arm slowly. Sam watched as he pushed aside the sleeve of his shirt enough to reveal his mark. Sam’s jaw nearly dropped.

The scar that used to run through Dean’s mark in his elbow was completely gone. It looked exactly like it had before Dean met Cas. Dean glanced over at Sam like he had the answers. Sam rolled his lips gently.

“Your body’s sorta been healing itself.” Sam remembered. “Ever since you passed out. The stitches on your side and your back are completely gone. I think maybe you got part of Cas’ grace just before he pushed you away? Or maybe just being close enough to him helped keep you alive?”

Dean pulled up his shirt to expose his stomach, ghosting his hands along the bottom of his ribs where there had been stitches and bandages when he passed out. Sam chuckled in disbelief. Now, there wasn’t even a scar.

“You think Cas is okay?” Dean murmured quietly as he let his shirt drop again.

“You’d know that better than me.” Sam answered with a helpless shrug. “Can you sense anything from him?”

“No.” Dean admitted after a minute. His gaze was thoughtful as he smoothed out the bottom of his shirt “But it’s not…empty.” He waved his hands distantly around his chest and Sam nodded slowly.

He understood that. He and Jess had never bonded like Dean had with Cas, but Sam knew the ache, the hollowness of missing someone. Sam frowned, suddenly realizing that empty pit in his chest was gone. Distantly, Sam rubbed his shoulder. Dean was standing from the couch though, and it jarred Sam from his thoughts.

“He’s out there somewhere, but at least he’s okay.” Dean sighed after he spoke. “If Annie’s coming back for us tonight, I need a drink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that you can find me on [tumblr](myangelshunter.tumblr.com)! As well as my darling beta, [Kimmy](myhuntersangel.tumblr.com), who's been sick these past few weeks. (If you have a minute, go and give her some love as well, she's been my cheerleader throughout this entire journey!) There will be two more chapters to this story which I'll post this upcoming Friday and Monday. So, hang on tight lovelies ;)


	14. Bleeding In the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: There is graphic descriptions of torture, blood and gore in this chapter, as well as a dose of PTSD Flashbacks, and if that can be triggering to you, please take caution reading this fic. Double check the tags guys.

Jo knew something was up as soon as the Winchesters walked through the door without Cas. She saw how heavily Dean sat down at the bar, giving her the two finger salute for a double o’whiskey before Sam took his seat. Instead of pouring the shot, Jo handed over the menus.

“You should eat first.” She told him. “You’re looking a bit pale.”

“Nah we just ate.” Dean muttered, pushing the menu aside. Jo saw the clench to his jaw that said he was lying but she didn’t press the issue. “We don’t have time to eat either. Annie’ll be here any minute.”

“Why what’s up?” Jo wondered. “Where’s Sarah?”

Sam winced slightly. “We called but Ellen said you were working, so we went to get her grace back.”

“That was about a week ago.” Dean added before Jo could yell at Sam. “I’ve been in a coma for the past five days.”

“ _What?_!” Jo screeched at that, and Sam was thankful that the bar was relatively empty. “Why didn’t you call me?” Jo asked, snapping her towel at Sam’s arm.

“I was about to,” Sam admitted. “But then he woke up.”

“Why were you in a coma?” Jo demanded to know as she glared at Dean.

“Because Cas graced-up.” Dean answered with a sour smirk.

Jo’s anger left her face and her mouth opened slightly. “Oh shit. He really was an Angel?”

“Can I have my whiskey now?” Dean asked with a wave at the back wall of liquor.

Silently, Jo pulled down the bottle of Jack Daniels and three glasses. She poured one each for the boys and one for herself. Dean didn’t hesitate to gulp down half his glass in one go. Sam rolled his glass between his fingers for a few seconds, and that was when Jo realized there was something else.

“Spill.” Jo muttered tightly. The brothers exchanged glances, and the sight made the whiskey on Jo’s tongue taste sour.

“Remember Alistair?” Dean wondered.

“Demon at the church.” Sam offered when Jo continued to stare in confusion.

“Ruby snuck me and Sarah out just as he was zoning in on your three.” Jo shook her head as she swallowed the rest of her whiskey. “What about him?”

“He’s one of Lilith’s biggest fans.” Dean muttered. “Angels got him tied up like a canary but he ain’t singing yet. Annie wants my help. Apparently demons are killing Angels and Alistair knows who.”

Jo shook her head gently. “Why do Angels need _you_ to talk to a demon?” She asked gingerly.

“Let’s just say my time in Hell was…” Dean swirled the glass as he searched for a word. “Educational.” He decided before tossing back the rest of his whiskey.

“You…remember?” Jo choked.

“Unfortunately.” Dean agreed, tapping his glass.

Jo poured him another double without missing a beat. “Dean, I don’t like this.” Jo said suddenly, watching as he downed the amber liquid.

“That makes two of us,” Sam agreed with a pointed look at his brother. Dean shrugged it off as he stared down at his empty glass. After a second, Sam caved as well and turned back to Jo with that sad puppy-look in his eyes. “But there’s nothing we can do.”

“Where are Cas and Sarah? If they’re both fallen, and they got their grace back, shouldn’t they be, I don’t know, all powerful now?” Jo asked quietly, rubbing her temples as she tried to understand everything.

“Yep.” Dean muttered.

“Except apparently when Angels take back their grace,” Sam tried to explain. “Maybe the human bodies don’t exactly survive the process? There was a big flash of light and they were just gone.”

“Holy shit.” Jo’s jaw dropped in horror as she glanced between the brothers.

Dean nodded solemnly in agreement, tapping his glass again.

Jo glanced down at the bar-top. Dean had downed two doubles already. Jo finished her single, but Sam hadn’t touched his at all. Jo’s gaze flickered to Sam. This was a lot of alcohol in a short span, and Dean hadn’t been this bad in a really long time. Sam understood the look and he nodded stiffly. Jo poured another shot for her and Dean. They drank together.

Dean slammed his glass down on the counter not a second after Jo.

“Okay. Let me grab my bag.” Jo sighed as the alcohol burned down her throat.

“Jo, trust me when I tell you,” Dean started, as he twirled the empty glass between his fingers. “This is something you _do_ _not_ want to get mixed up in. At all.” That being said, Dean got up from the bar and left.

Sam ran his fingers through his hair and stood slowly.

“Sammy _don’t_ leave.” Jo ordered. “I’m coming.”

“Course Jo.” Sam nodded because Jo had that scary look in her eyes again as she darted through the kitchen door. Sam sighed softly, deciding to down his one shot now that he was left alone at the bar. Placing the empty glass back down on the counter top, Sam he readjusted his jacket as he walked towards the front door. He swung it open to call for Dean to wait.

He wasn’t expecting to see Annie standing at the edge of the light casted out from the Roadhouse. She was saying something to Dean, but stopped instantly when her gaze fell on Sam. Dean barely gave him a glance over his shoulder before he gave Annie a hard nod. There was a shout on the tip of Sam’s tongue as Annie dropped her hand on Dean’s shoulder, probably right where that burn was and they were gone. Sam blinked, and found himself standing out in the cold night alone.

“Shit.” Sam hissed, reeling back into the Roadhouse. He ignored Jo’s shout as he stormed through the kitchen, around the stoves towards the back room. The door was locked, so Sam pounded roughly.

“Ash! It’s Sam! Open up!” Sam yelled with each slam of his fist on the wooden door. Two seconds later, Sam heard the lock on the door twist and Ash’s face appeared in the small opening.

“Sam? What’s—”

“Can you activate the GPS tracking in Dean’s cell phone?” Sam demanded.

“With my eyes closed.” Ash replied. “But why—”

“Do it. _Now_.” Sam ordered.

Ash caught the glower in Sam’s gaze, and his eyes grew wide. “ _Fuck_. Let me get my pants.”

 

 

 

\--------------------------

 

 

“Is there anything else?” Annie wondered, watching Dean carefully as he sorted through the items on the metal cart.

“Yea. If Sam shows up, don’t let him through that door.” Dean ordered without looking over at the Angel. He placed an empty bowl onto the top of the cart, nodding softly to himself. There wasn’t much else that he could use against Alistair. He could easily make this work.

“Dean, were it up to me,” Annie spoke so softly that Dean almost didn’t hear her. But she was suddenly standing right next to him, her back towards Uriel who was guarding the door to Alistair’s cell. “I would not have you do this.”

“Orders are orders right?” Dean said. He tilted his head slightly to give her a spiteful grin. There was mockery in his voice, and if Annie picked up on it, she didn’t let it show. Her eyes still held that fiery glare, but her frown was softer now, not so stoic. It made the heat and hate rolling in his stomach shaper. Stupid Angels and their stupid orders. Dean turned his back on the Angel to push his cart through the doors that Uriel was holding open for him.

In the other room, Alistair was bound to an iron pentagram, his wrists, legs, and waist tied down with iron chains, a massive white devil’s trap encircling the whole cage. Annie had explained that the trap was extensive, written in Enochian (whatever that was) and practically unbreakable. Alistair was as close to human as a demon could get. Dean took this in and didn’t look at Alistair again. The demon was in a different meat suit this time, but Dean wasn’t going to ask who he was wearing now.

He pushed the cart up towards the table, ignoring the tune that Alistair started whistling, uncapping the jug of holy water to fill the copper bowl on the table.

“Holy water, Dean? Where’s your creativity?” Alistair chided. Despite the different voice and the different face, the snide tone was the same, and that malicious smirk would forever be engrained in Dean’s memory.

Dean let a small smirk creep onto his lips, closing the jug and setting it down on the table. He unbuttoned his flannel, taking the shirt off entirely so he was only left with his dark gray undershirt. As he draped it over the end of the table, Dean reached for a syringe, filling it up steadily with holy water.

“Creativity?” Dean questioned as he walked forward, tapping the syringe lightly. “Don’t worry, I have plenty ideas. Thanks to you. See all those endless nights where I would pass out from the pain,” Dean explained. “I still had dreams. And every single damn time, I dreamt of this. Seeing you on the rack, and getting all the time I need to be _creative_.” Dean had no trouble finding a vein in Alistair’s neck, injecting the holy water straight into the demon’s system.

Alistair groaned, clenching his teeth to keep back the shout as the holy water burned through his body. Dean took a small step back, as if admiring his work, then turned to his cart, filling the syringe once more.

“While you’re simmering, you should think real good about what your answer to my question is going to be.” Dean told him. “Because I’m only going to ask it once and if you don’t give me the truth,” Dean waved a hand across the cart. “I’ll get creative. And I’ve got all night.”

Alistair craned his head to the side, breathing heavy as he took in the items Dean brought into the room. Slowly, a grin spread across his face. “Then let’s begin. But you should know, I’m grading you extra carefully today.”

 

_I’m grading you extra carefully today…grading you today…_

 

**_The words echoed in Dean’s mind like a flashing of lightning and thunder. Red and Black swirled in his vision._ **

**_His hands were dark. His hands were wet and sticky. He was covered in red, covered in black, burnt to the bone and bleeding._ **

**_It was his blood._ **

**_It was the blood from the rack._ **

**_It was the tortured soul in front of him, screaming, begging for mercy. It was his laughter ringing in his ears. More red. More black._ **

 

Dean reached for the bottle of Jack Daniel’s on the edge of the cart. He took a healthy sip. The alcohol burned down his throat, settling warm in his chest. The burn helped. It rooted him here. It gave him the edge he needed. Dean tapped the syringe again, his footsteps echoing as he walked back across the devil’s trap.

“Who’s killing the Angels?” Dean asked, slowly, carefully, making sure Alistair heard every word loud and clear with the syringe in his vision.

Alistair took one look at the syringe, then the hard lines of Dean’s face and he smirked. “Did they send you in here because they thought I would tremble under your hands?” Alistair wondered softly with that ever present edge of mockery in his voice. “Did they think I would _buckle_ , just because my former student picked up a blade again?” Alistair chuckled, deep in his chest. “They must be joking—”

“Answer the question.” Dean demanded.

Alistair laughed. “It’d take a lot more than this to scare me, Dean-o. In fact, I’m down right proud.”

“Wrong answer.” Dean didn’t really care that he stabbed the needle into Alistair’s neck this time. The grunt of surprise, and the hiss of pain the demon let out was satisfying enough.

Alistair rolled his head, the veins in his neck, head and arms straining against his skin and the sizzle of holy water.  “Like I said,” Alistair gritted through his teeth. “Where’s. The. Creativity?”

Dean smirked again. “Like I said,” Dean spoke as he walked back to the cart, putting down the syringe in favor of the demon blade. He dipped it into the bowl of water, soaking the blade entirely. He drew it out slowly, making sure Alistair could see him as he reached for the salt, and coated the blade, letting the particles stick to the holy water all along the edge of the knife. 

“I’ve got all night.” Dean held up the blade, smiling as he stood in front of Alistair, admiring the salt-coated edge. His eyes darted to Alistair, glad that there was a glint of malice in the demon’s gaze as he watched the knife twirl in Dean’s fingers. The demon didn’t say a word though. Dean felt the edge of his lip twitch into a smirk.

“Fine.” Dean muttered. “Let’s get started.”

 

 

********************

 

 

“What do you mean you can’t get a damn signal?” Sam asked, raking his fingers through his hair to keep himself from punching the nearest wall. “You’ve got five fucking computers in here!”

“His phone must be off.” Ash reasoned with a wave of his hand as the other clicked away fervently at the keyboard. “Dean’s no idiot. He knew you’d go after him, and he don’t wanna be found.”

“Shit.” Sam hissed.

“Sam, relax, he’s with Annie right?” Jo asked. “He’ll be fine.”

“That’s what worries me.” Sam gritted through his teeth as he turned out of the room in frustration. Ash didn’t call after him, but Sam heard Jo’s quick steps behind him as he barreled through the kitchen.

“Sam, where are you going?” Jo asked as he broke back into the bar.

“There’s one other person who can find him.” Sam muttered. He paused then, half way around the bar to reach for his phone. He needed to call Ruby. She could find him. “I gotta go after him.” Sam added distantly, feeling rather than seeing Jo hovering near his arm.

“Okay, let me get my stuff—”

Sam pursed his lips as pressed the call button on his phone. “Jo—”

“Shut it Sam! You two Winchesters are fucking idiots.” Jo muttered as she tossed down her apron and pulled her thick leather jacket over her shoulders. “You hunt for a few years and think you’re hot shit enough to take on the fucking Apocalypse by yourself? Seriously Sam?”

Sam shook his head stiffly as Jo stomped off to the back of the bar. He pressed his phone to his ear, bouncing where he stood as the tone rang and rang. It went straight to voicemail, but that didn’t stop Sam from leaving the address to the nearest motel off the highway.

Jo came back around the counter as Sam closed his phone shut. She had a bag tossed over one shoulder, and a shotgun propped against the other. Her face was set into a hard glare, and she only nodded towards the door before leading Sam out herself.

In five minutes they were tucked into the front seat of the Impala with the heat blasting, and Sam was filling Jo in on the week she’d missed. Jo fumed at the thought of Sam and Dean going up against Angels and demons without her, and Sam shied from her glare.

“You can take a swing at me later.” He muttered as he pulled into the motel parking lot ten minutes off the highway.

“Why are we stopping?” Jo asked.

“Ruby’s meeting us here.” Sam explained.

“After everything you just told me you still want to work with a demon?” Jo gaped.

“She’s the only one that can find Dean.” Sam reasoned with a helpless wave of his hand. “We don’t have a lot of options here Jo, and we’re on the clock.”

“Fuck.” Jo swore as she kicked the door open to follow Sam into the main office. They paid for a room for the night, parked the car, and Jo decided to clean out her gun while they waited.

“I don’t get why you trust her.” Jo muttered as she stripped down her weapon.

“That’s another long story.” Sam murmured.

“We got time to kill while we wait for the guest of honor.” Jo rolled her eyes as she worked the brush over the metal of her gun. When Sam didn’t answer her, but instead looked at the door like he wanted it to burst, Jo rolled her eyes.  “Come on, out with it.”

Sam chewed his lip gently. “She saved me. I did something really, really stupid while Dean was…” Sam swallowed, but Jo nodded to show she understood.  “I nearly got myself killed. Ruby stepped in and pulled my ass out of the fire. She sobered me up, sent me back to Cas, tried to help here and there with trying to find a way to get Dean out.” Sam shrugged softly. “She never had to do any of it. But she did.”

Jo pulled a gray cloth out from her bag to polish down the many metal parts of her gun. She worked smoothly and quietly as she took in the small summary Sam gave her. “That’s not everything.” Jo spoke into the silence as she clicked two pieces back together again.

“It’s what matters.” Sam amended with a small shrug.

“Annie doesn’t trust her,” Jo said.

“Annie’s an Angel,” Sam scoffed. “I’m pretty sure that’s hardwired into their DNA, or grace, or whatever.”

“Cas doesn’t trust her, Dean definitely doesn’t.” Jo added. “He was giving her all kinds of dirty looks last week when we were searching for Sarah’s grace.”

“Dean doesn’t know Ruby like I do.” Sam shook his head slowly. “And Cas could never get past the demon bit. Probably angel-wiring he didn’t know about.”

Sam tried to laugh at that, but Jo shook her head roughly. “It’s definitely the end times when we can trust demons but not Angels.” She muttered, clicking the last piece of her gun together again. She turned it over in her hands slowly, inspecting it one last time, running the gray cloth over it gently.

“You think they’re okay? Sarah and Cas?” Jo asked gingerly, eyeing Sam carefully as he paced along the floor in front of the table. Sam bit his lip again.

“Aside from the five-day nap, Dean woke up just fine.” Sam said. “That’s gotta count for something right? They were still bonded when Cas graced up.”

Jo nodded gently, but it didn’t make her feel any better, and she could tell it hardly reassured Sam. Sam continued to pace, a bit slower this time while Jo reached into her bag for her butterfly knife. She needed to keep her hands busy. Even as she was twirling the blade in her hands, the silence ate at her mind.

“So this demon, Alistair,” Jo stabbed at the silence, watching as Sam stopped pacing and sunk into the chair near the motel table. “You really think Dean’s got a chance against this bastard if the Angels are S.O.L?”

Sam rolled his lips gently. He was saved from answering by a loud knock on the door. Jo swung her knife defensively while Sam hurried to peak through the spyglass. He sighed in relief as he opened the door to let Ruby walk through.

“Thought you wanted out.” Ruby muttered bitterly.

“Annie got a hold of Dean.” Sam answered. “I need to find him.”

“Why?” Ruby asked. “Dean’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.” Ruby walked into the room, dropping her backpack on the table as her eyes fell on Jo. “Oh joy, you brought Little Miss Sunshine along for the drive.”

“Eat me.” Jo muttered.

“Seriously Ruby,” Sam spoke over Jo, trying to get the demon’s attention. “I wouldn’t be asking if there was another way. Are you gonna help or not?”

Ruby rolled her jaw softly, spinning to glance back at Sam. Her gaze wandered over him intently, and after a sigh, she nodded. “Fine. Get me a map.”

Ten minutes and one quick spell later, Jo staggered back as the map they spread across the motel-room table erupted into flames. Ruby was chanting quietly under her breath as the flames ate away at the edges of the map. Jo glanced between her black eyes and the burning paper.

“This looks more witchy then demony” Jo murmured quietly.

“Gotta start in the business somewhere.” Ruby answered. She chuckled when the flames jumped and Jo stepped back again. “Relax, the fire’s friendly. Out.” She commanded.

The blaze blew out as quickly as it caught. The entire map was ashes except for one little state in the center of the country. Ruby pointed at the mini-cigarette-looking burn in the bottom right corner of the state.

“That’s the place.” Ruby explained. “Looks like the Angels don’t care if they’re found.” Ruby sighed as her eyes flickered back to their human brown. She stepped away from the table so that Sam could look at the scrap, simply tucking her hands into her back pockets.

“Great.” Sam nodded as he read around the missing city. He obviously knew where they needed to go. “Jo can you—”

“Load up? Hell yes.” Jo answered with a quick nod, taking her bag and the keys to the Impala.

“Why are you really going after Dean?” Ruby asked once the door closed behind Jo.

“Annie wanted him to,” Sam swallowed lightly. “Interrogate Alistair.”

“He can do that.” Ruby nodded as though she approved. The nod made Sam feel sick.

“He’s not strong enough.” Sam shook his head.

“What? And you are?” Ruby scoffed as her eyes razed over him quickly. Sam swore he felt her gaze burning his skin. “You couldn’t even pull the demons in the barn in Ohio. You’re weaker now than you’ve ever been—”

“Ruby, now’s not the time.” Sam muttered as he clenched the scrap of roadmap in his hands.

“Really? What are you gonna do when you get there?” Ruby asked. “Alistair needs to be put down. And if you quit being so squeamish, you could do it in a heartbeat.”

“I don’t have time.” Sam answered tightly.

Ruby smirked. She pulled her hands from her pocket, twirling something between her fingers as she raised her hand to him. Sam eyed the large vial as it gleamed in the motel lamp-light. He swallowed as his throat ran dry and his headache pulsed at his temple. It wasn’t the small ones Ruby had handed over in that diner back in Pontiac when Dean returned. This one was in a potion-sized bottle with at least a full shot’s worth of blood.

“Good thing I made this meal to go.” Ruby said, holding it out for him like it was his school lunch. “And I packed it with extra protein. You’re gonna need it. This is logical Sam. You can’t go into a fight with a half-loaded gun. You need all the ammo you can get.” She pushed the vial towards his chest.

Sam heard the footsteps outside the door despite the roaring of blood pounding in his ears. He grabbed the vial before Jo busted into the room.

“Sam? We going or what?” Jo snapped.

“Yea.” Sam agreed, pushing past Ruby with his heart in his throat and a weight settling in his hands.

 

 

****************

 

 

Dean made sure the plastic cap was screwed on tight to the water bottle before carving a small hole into the top. It was filled with holy water mixed with salt now, and the small hole made the usual plastic bottle into something of a squirt gun. Perfect for dishing out holy water without wrecking the chalked drawings that kept Alistair trapped. It gave Dean extra leverage. Now, he could pour the holy water straight into the cuts that lined Alistair’s chest and arms without the syringe. Now, things would move a bit quicker. One misspoken word and Alistair sizzled under the blessed water.

“You know better than this Alistair,” Dean sighed, as if remorseful for the demon’s situation. That was farthest from the truth. If Dean wanted to be honest with himself, he was enjoying this.

This was the demon that tormented him for a lifetime in hell. This was the bastard that tore him apart, bit by bit every day, and then stitched him back together, only to start all over again in the morning. This was the hell spawn that forced him to watch as his brother was eaten alive by Hell Hounds. And the next day, forced him to watch while his match was burned on a stake, torn on a rack, hanging, bleeding above him. This was the demon who made it seem like Cas was the one holding the gore-slicked blade that tore into his skin, smiling maliciously at Dean each time he screamed while his brother watched with a vindictive smirk. This was the rotted soul who was going to suffer for a good long while before Dean really started digging for answers.

“Mm, I do,” Alistair mused. “But I’m curious to see what other little tricks you have in store for me Dean-o. The syringe was a nice touch. The salt in the holy water—that was almost impressive. And now you’ve got a little squirt gun. It’s cute really.”

Dean clenched his jaw at the disgusted nickname. He squeezed the bottle, sending out a string of holy water straight to Alistair’s exposed chest. His skin hissed like the water was fire, and Alistair slammed his head back into the iron pentagram in pain.

“How’s that for cute?” Dean growled.

“I’m…tickled.” Alistair laughed. His mouth was open. Dean squeezed the bottle again, forcing the water straight down his throat. Blood bubbled up in Alistair’s mouth. Dean stepped back to avoid the splatter, but he watched as the dark red line tricked past Alistair’s lips with a twisted smirk.

“Dean, you really shouldn’t abuse your victim’s mouth.” Alistair spat onto the devil’s trap below him. “How am I supposed to talk with my tongue on the floor?”

Dean seemed to consider that. There was a heavy amount of blood on the floor now. Dean found he didn’t care. “You’ll manage.” Dean refilled the bottle and picked up the knife again. “One last time—”

“Oh really?”

“All I need is a name, Alistair,” Dean told him as he coated the knife with holy water and salt once more. “Who is killing the Angels?”

“Mmm, wish that I knew. I’d love to get their autograph.” Alistair sighed. “I’d put it right next to yours. After all, we couldn’t have done any of this without you my boy.”

Dean froze, blade raised to slice another line into Alistair’s waist. The words rattled around in his skull. Most of his brain screamed lies. Part of his brain whispered truth. Alistair was smiling, bloody and toothy when Dean looked up at his face.

“I’m not lying Dean-o” Alistair reassured him. “It really is all thanks to you. The Righteous Man.”

Dean let the blade push into the man’s skin. Blood pooled onto the metal, onto his fingers, hot and sticky. Dean didn’t care. He watched the lightning show jolt up and down Alistair’s side. It was painful, but it wouldn’t kill the demon. Dean felt his lip curl. “Who’s killing the Angels?”

“Didn’t they tell you Dean?” Alistair ground the words out through the pain, through his teeth, through his labored breaths. Blood trailed down his lips, down his chin, coating his collar and his neck. “The Righteous Man—” Dean twisted the blade, digging deeper, cutting off Alistair’s words. The damn demon wouldn’t shut up though. He tossed his head to the side in pain, straining to look back at Dean while he dragged the knife through his waist. “That was the first seal.”

“Stop lying.” Dean barked. He drew out the blade, turning back to the table for the funnel and the bag of salt.

“Oh no no. I’m too proud to lie about this Dean-o.” Alistair’s voice called, breathy as it echoed throughout the room.

Screw the funnel. Dean took the bag of salt, stalking back to the demon to grip his head. With Alistair bound it was easy to snap his jaw open and pour the salt straight down his throat. Alistiar gagged as the salt streamed down his throat. He choked, he sputtered, but Dean didn’t relent. Not until the salt was bubbling back up out of Alistair’s mouth pink. Then red. Then crimson as Alistair retched.  

Dean held the near empty bag tight in his hands. He stood a step away, watching as Alistair coughed up the salt, the blood pouring out of his mouth like bile. Alistair hung there after it passed, and Dean reached for the holy water again. He didn’t expect the demon to raise his head with a pleased smirk on his pale face, his teeth were just as red as his lips.

“And so it is written,” Alistair crooned despite the mouth full of salt and blood sliding over his lips. “That when a Righteous Man spills blood in the pits of Hell, the First Seal shall shatter.”

Dean felt the heat in his chest grow cold. That sounded like a prophecy. That sounded like something straight out of Revelations. That sounded exactly like a seal.

Alistair chuckled quietly. Or maybe he was choking again. The breath he took was raspy, and his voice was rough when he spoke again. “For just as he breaks in damnation, so too shall it _break_.” Alistair continued. “And the end of days shall be upon us.”

No, that couldn’t be right. How could he even be this Righteous Man? What made him so special? Why had he shattered in Hell? The memory flooded back to him the instant Dean silently asked the question.

 

**_He ached._ **

**_The pain spiked through his chest, his arms, his legs, his throat. The chains around his wrists burned as they kept him bound to the rack. The hooks dug into his skin, his bones, his heart, his lungs. He couldn’t take this anymore. How could he stand this? How long had it been since he hung here, suspended by the chains as black as smoke?_ **

**_Sam was standing over him. No, it wasn’t Sam. But…it had to be Sam. Sam only ever looked at him with those puppy eyes, full of sympathy and understanding. But no, it couldn’t be Sam. He was holding a dagger as long as his arm, it was dripping black and red. Was that from Dean? Had Sam broken too? When did Sam get down here? He couldn’t remember._ **

**_“Sam…” Dean’s voice was nothing in this place. His speech was screams choking on blood and smoke. But Sammy understood him. He smiled in that soft way again and he reached his hand out, the one clutching the dagger._ **

**_“Take it Dean,” Sam spoke. But it wasn’t Sam’s voice. It was warped and twisted. But that was Hell. That was what Hell did. Hell warped and twisted. Hell burned. It didn’t sound like Sam. But maybe that was just what Hell did to Sam. “Take it, and this can stop.”_ **

**_Dean shook his head softly. This wasn’t Sam. Sam wouldn’t ask him to do this. Sam would be strong. Sam wouldn’t snap. When Dean looked up again, Cas was there. Dean’s heart pounded painfully. There was more black. More red. He was sticking to the hooks and the chains that kept him down. They were digging into his flesh, pulling at his skin, breaking his bones._ **

**_“Dean, take the blade.” Cas ordered. “Take it and come with us.”_ **

**_“You’re not real.” Dean pleaded. “You can’t be.”_ **

**_“Would it be so different?” Alistair asked. Dean couldn’t see him. But he was there. Alistair was always there. “Everyone breaks down here Dean. They would if they were right here with us. So come on sonny, pick up that blade. I’ll show you how to put it to use. I’ll show you how to take away all the pain.”_ **

**_“Come on Dean,” Sam was back, talking to him as Dean tried to shake his head, tried to fight. He was stuck to the rack. Every pull of his body made the pain come back ten-fold. More red filled his vision as Sam’s face hovered over his. “Haven’t you suffered long enough?”_ **

**_Sam reached out a hand. Dean didn’t notice that it was covered in red and black. Everything in Hell was Red and Black. But Sam’s hand was empty, no blade, no weapon. Just his brother. Reaching out. Offering him peace. Dean didn’t even realize that his hand shook as he gripped Sam’s hand._ **

**_Alistair’s laugh rang in his ears._ **

 

Dean reeled, anger, hatred, fury stuck in his throat and his hands. He didn’t care that his firsts burned as they cut across Alistair’s teeth. He didn’t care that blood pooled down his fingers to his arms. Each crack of knuckles against skin felt good. Each wince and groan that Alistair dropped was a pleasant symphony. The blood Alistair spat out between each blow only encouraged Dean to pick up the knife again and carve.

He reached for the blade, just as he had in hell. He snatched it off the table and clutched it tightly. It shook in his hands. The handle was sticky, coated in red. The blade was shaded in black, but Dean didn’t care.

“That’s it Dean,” Alistair chuckled. “Show me everything you learned. _Show me what I taught you_.”

Dean remembered.

That was the problem. Every other cut he made into Alistair reminded him of that first soul that he tore to shreds in Hell. Alistair had stood over his shoulder as Dean slashed, as he stabbed, as he carved away flesh from bones, as he dealt out all the pain he’d ever felt. And Alistair had smiled with those sick pale-white eyes at Dean’s work, but then there was another one in front of Dean—

 

**_“This time, I want you to take your time Dean.” Alistair had whispered into his ears. “I want to you peel away as slowly as possible, there’s no rush.”_ **

**_Alistair’s hand hovered over Dean’s, helping him grip the knife tightly. He guided Dean’s hand to the soul in front of him, helping him dig the knife slowly into the body on the rack. The screams of the soul filled Dean’s head. But Alistair was behind him, whispering in his ear, louder than the screams._ **

**_“We’ve got all the time in the world, and they deserve every last ounce of suffering. They wouldn’t be here if they didn’t deserve it, right Dean?” Alistair asked. “Make them suffer for what they’ve done. Make them suffer just as you did.”_ **

 

That was when Dean had started to enjoy it. When he slowed down, when he listened to the twisted screams, the pleas for help, for mercy, the cries that begged him to stop. That was when Dean realized he had the power. He could stop if he wanted, and sometimes he did. Sometimes he had a soul for weeks, picking and prodding, wondering how long it would take before they snapped, giving them a day of rest, and then starting all over again.

Dean sucked in a breath as he stepped away from Alistair. The demon’s shirt was no longer white. It was pink and red and torn to shreds. His chest was covered in slashes and deep cuts from Dean’s knife. Alistair was hanging from the chains around his wrist, nearly unconscious. His face was covered in thick black blood. It oozed from his jaw, the cuts along his cheekbones and forehead. Bruises were already starting to show against his pale skin from Dean’s punches. Despite that, Dean could make out the slight curve to his lips.

Dean took another step back, his breath labored in his chest, his heart pounding in his ears. He stared down at himself, following Alistair’s pleased smirk. His hands were covered in black and red blood to his wrists. The demon blade in his hands gleamed in his fingers. He wasn’t shaking this time. His shirt was just as covered in black and red. He wasn’t in Hell. He was covered in blood and gore and this was real.

Taking a slow breath through his nose, Dean raised his head to match the smirk on Alistair’s face. Alistair wanted him to close control, to lose focus. Dean wouldn’t though. He was better than that. He could do this. They weren’t in Hell anymore. This was real.

“Well, I feel better.” Dean admitted, letting his smirk turn into a grin as he turned the demon blade over in his hands. He let Alistair watched as he twisted it once before wiping it clean on the front of his jeans. “I’ll give you a second, and then we’ll have some more fun.” Dean promised as he turned his back on the demon.

 

 

*************

 

“ _SAM!_ ” Jo’s screech forced Sam’s gaze to refocus on the road, but his foot was already slamming on the breaks. Panic spiked through him as he saw the woman staggering in the street, blood dripping from her nose and a busted lip. The front of the Impala stopped mere inches from her.

“Sarah?” Sam shouted. He already had the Impala in park and was out of the car as Sarah’s knees gave out.

“Hi Sam.” She shuddered as she spoke. The fallen Angel sagged in his arms, leaning against him heavily as Sam steered her towards the Impala’s back seat.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Jo asked as she opened the car door.

“Oh, hi Jo.” Sarah smiled weakly when her gaze fell on the blonde. “I’m fine. Just a little roughed up but it’s a long story. I’ll tell you guys later.”

Sam helped her into the back seat, where Sarah slumped into the leather with a sigh of relief. Sam exchanged a worried glance with Jo before hurrying around to the driver side and revving the car back down the road. Jo swallowed thickly as she looked between Sam and Sarah. Sarah gave her a soft smile, but her eyes were sad every time Jo looked back.

“I don’t know where Cas is, I’m sorry.” She murmured.

Sam sighed quietly but he nodded gently. “We’ll find him after we get Dean.” Sam promised. He wasn’t sure who he was trying to reassure more, Sarah, Jo, or himself. All he knew was the words were encouraging as ge pushed hard on the gas, forcing the Impala to tear down the highway.

Jo lasted for about five minutes in the silence before she turned in her seat to stare at Sarah. “Sammy told me you graced up.” Jo said. “How are you still in one piece?”

“Called in an old favor,” Sarah smirked as she sat slumped in her seat. “Took a little longer than I expected, and my body isn’t completely healed yet, but I had to find you guys.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

“It’s about Dean.” Sarah explained. “I found something while I was out.”

“If you’re talking about Hell,” Sam started before Sarah could get out another word. “I know he remembers. And I don’t care. Annie’s got Dean and Alistair. I can’t just sit back and do nothing.”

“What?” Sarah sat up quickly, wincing as she leaned against the front bench. “She took him to Alistair?”

“Yes.” Sam answered tightly.

“Someone please tell me why this is a bad thing?” Jo asked, glaring between Sarah and Sam. “Dean can handle a demon.”

“That’s exactly the problem.” Sarah muttered. She grimaced as blood filled her mouth, and she quickly wiped her cut with the edge of her green canvas jacket. “This isn’t good. But it’s not what I found out. Dean is the Righteous Man.” Sarah declared.

“I know,” Sam frowned. “Annie called him that once. So what?”

“It’s part of a prophecy.” Sarah said.

At first Sam just frowned. Since when did Dean have a prophecy about him? When Sam glanced up at the rear view mirror to find Sarah’s bright eyes staring at him, something else clicked in his mind.

“A prophecy that spoke of Judgment Day, Sam.” Sarah added.

“Judgment Day?” Jo echoed. “Like the Apocalypse?”

Sam’s frown only deepened as their words ran over in his mind. Judgment day was the Apocalypse. Prophecies dealing with the Apocalypse had been what Cas was putting together as seals. The Righteous Man was part of a prophecy—

“Oh fuck.” Sam swore. “Dean broke a seal?” he whispered, almost afraid of saying the words out loud.

“Aren’t seals those things that’ll let the devil out of the cage?” Jo asked gingerly.

Sarah only nodded stiffly as she brushed the blood away from her lip again. Sam pushed down harder on the gas pedal.

 

 

*********

 

 

Dean tried to keep his breathing in check as he kept his back to Alistair. It wasn’t easy, even being out from the demons pleased gaze. His heart was pounding along with the mantra of _no, no, no,_ streaming through his mind.

He couldn’t have broken the first seal. He couldn’t have started all this. What made him so special? What made him so righteous? Other souls cracked in Hell. That was what Hell did to human souls. It tormented and twisted and tore until there was no humanity left. Alistair had to be lying. It wasn’t Dean who broke the seal.

Dean picked up the demon knife again, dipping it in holy water before turning back to the demon. He didn’t say a word as he crossed the devil’s trap and drove the knife straight into his chest, right where his heart should be. Alistair’s yell echoed throughout the room as Dean turned the blade into his chest over and over, digging and stabbing and slashing like the knife was a whip. The yell turned into a laugh, breathless, hopeless, and yet somehow triumphant.

“Go ahead Dean,” Alistair spat. “Let out all of that _righteous_ fury. You want to know why it was you? Why it had to be _you_ that broke the first seal?” Alistair heaved in a breath through the blood and salt and holy water in his mouth. “It wasn’t. Not right away. We had your pretty little match in Hell for a time.”

Dean frozen, his hand poised to cut into Alistair’s chest again. Cas? No.

Alistair grinned, taking in a quick deep breath. “Oh yes. I was getting nice and comfy with him. I had heard so much about him—Castiel Novak, the great hunter. Oh and I was going to break him.” Alistair lamented, picking his head up slowly to rest it back against the pentagram.

Dean couldn’t move. He knew Alistair was lying. There was no way that Alistair had Cas. Cas had never—

The Devil’s Gate in Wyoming flashed into Dean’s mind. Cas, pale, bleeding, dying in his arms with a smile on his face. Oh God, Dean thought, how could he forget? Cas had been in Hell. That was why Dean made the deal in the first place.

“I was going to bend him slowly until his bones splintered out of his skin.” Alistair growled, snapping Dean’s mind back into the present. “You remember what I did Dean. I showed you some of the best scenes—”

 

**_Cas was on a rack._ **

**_He was right next to Dean with a hook in his side, three in his legs, two in his arms, bleeding._ **

**_His body was bare and coated with blood where the hooks dug. His skin was scorched wherever his shirt and jeans used to be._ **

**_He cried out, screaming for Dean and Sam as Alistair’s knife slid down his chest._ **

**_Alistair only laughed as he peeled away the charred skin—_ **

 

“You bastard,” Dean hissed. He’d always thought that was another of Alistair’s tricks. Another image to torment him, to make him break. But that had been real? Dean was going to make him pay for that.

Alistair didn’t seem to hear him. “I didn’t have much time with him. A little over a week. Maybe it was a month. And then you pulled him right out from under me,” Alistair explained with a chuckle. Or maybe he was choking on his own blood again. “That’s what made you so righteous Dean. You didn’t care that your soul was going to Hell. Oh no,” Alistair bemoaned. “You only cared that your dear lover, your precious little match, was safe from Hell’s fire.”

Alistair laughed quietly, wheezing against the trap. “And I thought I was getting a prize. The match of the famous Castiel Novak. He had to be strong, had to be made of cold iron, just like his match. I thought it was going to take _centuries_ to crack you. And I was ready for it.”

The blade in Dean’s hands was trembling again. Alistair needed to shut up. Dean ought to take the salt, and jam it so far down Alistair’s throat that his stomach would end up on the floor. But he couldn’t move. He was stuck, his back turned to the demon, the blade trembling in his hands.

 

**_Hands that were covered red and black with blood._ **

**_Hands that tore and carved._ **

**_Hands that forced out screams._ **

**_Hands that gave no mercy._ **

**_Hands that sliced with jagged knives and hooks_**.

 

“Not centuries though,” Alistair crooned. “No…lover-boy broke in forty years. Like a twig in a twister.”

That wasn’t true though. Dean had managed. He had managed for nearly forty years to say no. To take the lashing. He had suffered. He had been tortured and torn apart and put back together. He’d watched his match, his brother, flayed alive, drawn and quartered, ripped to shreds right before his eyes. He had resisted.

Until his brother and his match, twisted and deformed, grinning with malice and blood, had reached forward and begged for his hand. Dean took in a deep breath and shook the images aside.

That was gone. That was Hell. This was Earth. This was his home field.

Dean turned then, his glare set and for half a second, Alistair’s smile wavered.


	15. Loved And Lost

“This is the address?” Jo wondered as Sam steered the Impala into the parking lot outside of an abandoned building. She squinted down at the burnt piece of map in her hand, then back up at the structure.

“Yes.” Sarah answered. “There’s warding in there. Not much, but it is Angelic.” She promised.

“Good. See if you guys can get the door opened.” Sam threw the Impala into park before shutting her down. Jo nodded, waiting for Sarah to slip out of the car before following the Fallen Angel across the empty lot.

Sam took one look at the building and shook his head. Whether it was an old plant, or warehouse, Sam didn’t care. If Sarah said Dean was in there that was enough for him. Tossing the keys once in his hand, Sam quickly unlocked the Impala’s trunk. This bottom half of the trunk had expanded its weapons collection over the years, and despite Sam’s attempts to organize it, Dean kept it to his own weird system. Sam had learned by muscle memory to prop up the shotgun to keep the lid open, where to reach for the salt rounds, where he kept his handgun, the sawed-off, and a flask of holy water. Right now, all he needed was the flask of holy water, and his handgun.

Sam tucked the flask into his coat pocket and froze. His fingers brushed over the vial of Ruby’s blood. It was still in his pocket.

Sam’s throat ran dry and his temple throbbed painfully. He shouldn’t. He’d promised Dean. He’d promised himself. Sam pulled the vial from his coat. He ought to throw it against the ground, listen to the glass shatter and join the girls. Part of him said that was the right thing to do. Another part of him, louder, more forceful, screamed that he’d be losing a weapon. Alistair was in there. This vial would be enough. It would give him the boost he needed. He could take care of this pest. Before Sam knew it, he was tipping the vial back to his lips.

“Sam!” Jo called over a loud crash. Sam jumped at the sudden blast, choking down the last of the blood in his mouth while the glass vial shattered at his feet. He wiped his mouth clean as he peered over the Impala’s trunk.

Sarah had a hand outstretched to the warehouse door, which was now scattered in wooden pieces around her. So, that was the bang. Jo waved her arms over her head, beckoning him hurriedly. Sam quickly slammed the bottom shut, then the trunk as he passed his hands across his mouth again. His headache ebbed away as he ran after Jo and Sarah.

Jo had a flashlight in her hands, letting the light scan the dark empty hallways as they hurried through a winding maze of rooms, more hallways, and an open work area. Sam held his gun tightly, smiling softly to himself that the gun didn’t tremble in his hands. His nerves were settled, his heart was racing, but it didn’t make Sam jittery. He felt good.

Sarah and Jo kept a step ahead of him. Jo was lighting the way, but Sarah seemed to know where she was going. She led them through dusty rooms, empty hallways, and past vacant stairways before stopping at the single lit room at the end of a hallway.

“There.” Sarah pointed back to a door in a corner across the floor. Distantly, Sam could hear shouts and screams.

“Is that Dean?” Jo wondered as they hurried to the door.

Sarah didn’t answer her, and Sam wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t Dean screaming, that was all Sam knew. Once at the door, Sarah raised a hand to the lock on the iron handle. Rather than the lock opening for them, the entire door blew open, swinging back on rusted hinges and slamming into the wall.

The room beyond it was as rusted, and musky as the rest of the plant. The main difference was the over-head lights that flickered yellow and white as Sarah stepped into the room. There was a table resting in front of a door, and Annie was there, her hands pressed flat into the surface. The shouts of anguish and pain came from the room she was guarding.

“Aniel.” Sarah’s voice was a bit rough, like she couldn’t decide if she was angry, disappointed or scared. As the Angel turned, her expression blank, Jo sucked in a breath beside Sam. Annie hardly spared him a glance, like always, and her eyes lingered on Jo before finally settling on Sarah.

“Sarah. You regained your human form.” Annie noticed. Her face didn’t change. She was cold, guarded, but it didn’t seem to faze Sarah as she shrugged, a tiny smile gracing her lips.

“You know me, I’m sentimental. Unlike you.” Sarah accused. When Annie tilted her head at the accusation, Sarah’s smile disappeared entirely. “How could you let Dean do this?” Sarah asked. Her voice might be quiet, but in the sudden silence of the room, it was loud enough. “You know what he went through; you saw it yourself. And yet you insist on tossing the poor man back into the fire?”

“It’s necessary.” Annie answered tightly.

“It’s brutal.” Sarah countered. “Heartless. Cold. You’re using him like a pawn, but you know he’s so much more. Let him go.”

Annie’s gaze flickered to Sam. Those amber eyes were piercing in the flickering light. Another shout came from the room behind them. It wasn’t a pleasant sound, and it sent Sam’s teeth on edge. Was that Alistair? What was Dean doing to him? Part of Sam wanted to barrel past the Angel, break down the door and drag his brother out kicking and screaming. Another part of him knew Annie wouldn’t let him past the table.

“Annie how could you fucking do this to Dean?” Jo shouted. “How could you put him in there—”

“It’s not Dean,” Sam muttered.

“What?” Jo balked, glaring at Sam now.

“Dean’s not the one screaming.” Sarah told her, taking a deep breath. “It’s Alistair.”

“That’s…doesn’t make any—” Jo started, disbelief written across her face as she stared between Sam and Sarah. Her flashlight shook in her hands, and Sam winced. This wasn’t going to end well. “No! No!” Jo shouted, the ferocity and determination coming back to her shoulders like nothing happened. She stomped across the room before Sam could grab her. “Annie you let him go right now, or I swear—”

Sam blinked, taking in the silver that flashed in Jo’s hands as she stalked towards the Angel with fight in her eyes. This was so not going to end well.

Annie walked around the edge of the table, meeting Jo effortlessly. Where Sam thought there would be a fight, Annie merely grabbed Jo’s hand to stop the knife with one hand, and the other pressed two fingers to Jo’s forehead. The blonde sagged against the Angel instantly, and to Sam’s surprise, Annie lifted Jo like she was a child and laid her down on the table behind her.

Sarah sucked in a breath beside him, but Sam was too busy trying to wrangle what exactly just happened to notice. Unfortunately, Annie didn’t give them much time. Her eyes were on Sarah then as she walked across the room.

“You shouldn’t have come here Sarah,” Annie spoke over the shouting that came from the back room. “I have orders to kill you on sight.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” Sarah taunted when Annie stood just five steps away from them. Sam grew tense, shifting so that at least a shoulder was between the two Angels.

“You came here for him.” It wasn’t a question, but it didn’t exactly sound like Annie was sure of herself either. “Knowing that I would have to kill you, you came anyway.” Now there was confusion on the Angel’s face as she stared at Sarah.

“Yes.” Sarah answered.  “Were you in my place sister, you would do the same.”

A crash sounded from the doorway. The next shout wasn’t right. It wasn’t as deep. It was a scream.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, because he knew that sound. That was his brother, in pain.

Annie turned sharply, but Sam was already a step ahead of her. He yanked on the door in time to see his brother being thrown into an iron pentagram before crashing onto the floor. When Dean picked his head up, blood was pouring from his nose, into his mouth and down his chin. He was clutching at his chest as he grimaced in pain. Alistair was on him before Sam could get into the room. The demon reached down to grab Dean by the throat, raising him to his feet, higher each time Dean choked for a breath.

“No!” Sam shouted, reaching out a hand without thinking.

Alistair was freed from the trap, but he was weak. Sam could feel that twisted darkness that possessed the human in front of him but it wasn’t as powerful as last time. Sam felt it swirl around his fingers like thick, wet, yarn and he clutched at it as tightly as he could. Alistair lost his grip on Dean, taken by surprise, and Sam didn’t hesitate. He gripped the wet mess in his hands harder and tossed his hand to the side. Alistair’s body was thrown into the brick wall like a puppet, far away from Dean.

Sarah rushed across the room, kneeling next to Dean as Annie stood between him and the demon.

“Oh, how sweet,” Alistair crooned when his gaze finally settled on Sam. “Little brother here to save the day—”

Sam clenched his fist, cutting off the rest of Alistair’s words. It was easy. So easy now. All Sam had to do was twist his hand. Alistair squirmed in discomfort and pain against the brick wall.

“Sam, we still need information.” Annie told him, a quiet voice of reason at his shoulder.

Sam did his best to keep the smirk off his face as he stared back at the demon. This was the bastard that tormented Dean in Hell. And if Annie needed information, then Sam would be happy to help. “Alright, listen you dick. You get one chance to tell me who’s killing the Angels, and that’s it.”

“Oh brother, dear brother.” Alistair laughed. “You don’t have the strength—”

Now Sam smirked. He curled his fingers into a slow fist, gathering as much of the demon in his hands as he could as he turned his fist slowly. The darkness churned in Alistair’s chest and the bricks at his back crackled under the pressure as the demon groaned. He tried to peel himself from the brick wall, but Sam only pushed him harder.  

“Guess again.” Sam told him, ignoring the gasp from Sarah behind him, and the glare that Annie drove into the side of his skull. Sam eased his grip for a second, letting Alistair catch a tiny breath 

The demon laughed. Sam clenched his jaw, opening his palm to push as rough as he could. Alistair slammed his head into the wall with a bitten back shout. “Not. Lilith.”

“Sam,” Sarah’s worried voice called behind him. Sam barely heard her.

“What?” Sam asked. His eyes were locked on Alistair as he eased up the pressure, letting Alistair breathe.

“Lilith…wouldn’t kill…five Angels,” Alistair gritted through his teeth between a laugh and a groan. “She’d kill a dozen. A hundred. As many as she could get her hands on.”

“Where is she?” Sam asked.

Alistair laughed. Blood bubbled in his mouth, streaming down his lips as Sam pushed harder. “Go ahead, little _king_. Send me back to Hell. I’ll be back soon enough.”

Sam shared a glance with Annie. The Angel was tense, more so than usual, and she shook her head gently in disagreement.

“We’re not sending you back to Hell.” Sam muttered. “You want to, or should I?” Sam asked quietly. Because he could. Sam could push and push and Alistair would crumple to pieces.

Annie stepped forward with her hand raised, so Sam kept Alistair pinned to the wall. She pressed her palm to Alistair’s forehead, white light burning from her palm.

Alistair lurched at the touch. He shouted as his eyes flashed with lightning that raked through his body like a stab from the demon blade. Sam lost his grip on the demon as it died. The poor human slumped to the floor with black-scorched eyes, dead as the demon.

Sam turned quickly, finding Dean sprawled on the ground. His head was propped in Sarah’s lap, her jeans stained with the blood pouring out from his broken nose. It didn’t look like he was even conscious.

“Annie, heal him.” Sam demanded.

The Angel turned dark eyes onto his brother, then Sarah and Sam. “I have to report this to my superior.” Annie said. “If demons aren’t responsible for the killings…” she trailed off, and Sam grabbed her arm before she could fly away.

“No. Heal him first. It’s your fault he’s like this!” Sam shouted, dragging Annie across the room so that she was standing right above Dean. “You put him in here!”

Annie took a breath, reaching forward to press her fingers to Dean’s forehead. Sam felt the world tip backwards on his feet. Faintly, he heard Sarah shouting for him.

When Sam regained his footing, and his balance, he was resting in some ER. Dean was propped against him, out cold and bleeding.

“Damn it!” Sam shouted. He tightened his grip on Dean’s arm and waist to keep his brother from falling over. “Help! I need some help here! Please!” A nurse came running, another with a hospital bed, and they took Dean off to a room.

 

 

\-------------------------------

 

 

 

Sarah showed up at the hospital about an hour later with Jo and Bobby in tow. They found Sam sitting with his head in his hands by Dean’s bed. Dean was breathing steady, but there was oxygen pouring through the plastic wrapped around his nose. He was hooked into an IV drip and a heart monitor that dinged and beeped steadily.

Sarah tapped on the door to get Sam’s attention. He snapped straight, but relaxed as his gaze flickered to Sarah, to Jo, then his Uncle.

“How’s he doing?” Jo asked quietly.

“Three broken ribs, five others are bruised pretty badly. Broken nose and clavicle. He’s lucky Alistair didn’t break his neck.” Sam rattled off the injuries quietly. “Docs want to keep him until he’s fully conscious again. They gave him a morphine drip after he woke up in pain.”

“I thought you said Alistair wasn’t the one hurting Dean,” Jo muttered as she settled down into the chair next to Sam.

“He wasn’t,” Sam answered quietly. “Not at first. Alistair got loose from the devil’s trap somehow. Happened right after Annie knocked you out.”

“Yea, remind me to knife her for that when I see her again.” Jo snipped.

“You’re lucky she didn’t smite you.” Sarah spoke as she leaned against the closed door while Bobby stood on the other side of Dean’s bed.

“So are you.” Sam added, catching her gaze gently. “How did she let you and Jo out of there?”

Sarah smirked. “We have a history,” Sarah explained quietly. “Orders are orders, but Annie wasn’t going to kill me. As soon as she sent you guys here, she vanished.”

The room fell into something of a comfortable silence, but Sam was still mulling over the words in his head. Something wasn’t sitting right with him. It didn’t make sense.

“Hey Bobby, Alistair said that Lilith wasn’t the ones going after Angels,” Sam murmured, staring distantly at the off-white blankets covering his brother as he thought aloud. “If it’s not the demons, then what could it be?”

“Beats the hell outta me.” Bobby shrugged. “You’d know better than us.” Bobby added, glancing over at Sarah.

Sam scoffed at his own stupidity, but Sarah’s glare was harsh as she glanced from Bobby to Sam, then Dean.

“They were foolish to send him in there,” Sarah muttered. “Too blind and too pompous to see the truth they already knew.” She dropped her arms from her chest as she started to pace in the little free space beyond Dean’s bed.

“Wanna put that in plain English for us mere mortals here?” Jo asked as she massaged her forehead.

“Only an Angel can kill another Angel.” Sarah spoke tightly as she paced. “No demons can kill Angels. They don’t have the power, or the weapons. These deaths can only be caused by another Angel.”

“Why would there be fighting between Angels?” Sam asked.

“We aren’t exactly the Hallmark version of Angels, Sam,” Sarah joked, but her smile was brittle. “We may think we are, but we are not perfect. And I saw the trap that Alistair was incased in back there. It was drawn in Enochian, the language of Angels. Aniel probably made it herself. It should have made Alistair completely immobile and powerless.”

“Then how did he break out?” Sam asked.

Sarah’s jaw clenched as she crossed her arms over her chest. “There was a gap in the outer chalk line.” Sarah explained.

“Someone scuffed it out?” Jo wondered.

“No one else was in the room with Dean.” Sarah shook her head gently. “It had to be another Angel. They are the diviner’s of fate. That gap wasn’t an accident. My guess, whoever is killing the Angels broke the trap.”

“They wanted Alistair to break loose.” Sam realized. His gaze fell back to his brother, to the crusted blood under his nose, the bruises around his cheekbones and his neck. They wanted Alistair to get loose so—

“So he would kill Dean before he could find out the truth.” Sarah finished as if she knew exactly what Sam was thinking. Sam fell forward again, holding his face in his hands, closing his eyes as he breathed deeply. “I’m going back. Maybe I can talk some sense into Aniel.”

“She has orders to kill you!” Sam snapped his head up as he stood from his chair. “Sarah, you got lucky earlier that Annie had more problems to deal with. If you go now—” Sarah didn’t flinch at Sam’s sudden outburst. She merely smiled at him, and held up a hand for him to calm down.

“It wasn’t luck Sam.” Sarah told him. “I’ve got my grace now. And believe it or not, Aniel used to be my Lieutenant.”

Sam had another protest on the tip of his tongue. Cas was missing, Dean was hurt, and he didn’t want to lose Sarah too. Not when she’d just returned. Sarah gave him another gentle smile, and part of Sam distantly wondered if she really could read his mind.

“I’m going with you.” Jo spoke up before Sam could get his thoughts back in order. Jo stood from her chair as Sarah turned to leave.  

“I’ll be fine.” Sarah tossed over her shoulder as she opened the door.

“I wasn’t asking.” Jo shook her head. “I got a bone to pick with Annie and you need backup with a death-warrant on your head.”

Sarah smirked as Jo stepped across the room. Jo had her chin raised, and even if Sam could only see her profile as she stood, he knew Jo had that defiance in her eyes that no one could argue against. Sarah took note and nodded, pushing the door open for Jo to step through ahead of her.

“Be careful.” Sam tried to make it more of a command than a plea, but Sarah’s smile said he failed. Jo turned to salute with a faint wink before stepping out into the hallway with Sarah on her heels.  

Sam sunk back into his chair while Bobby whistled lowly behind the closed door. Sam ran his fingers through his hair as exhaustion barreled into the throbbing headache that sat in his temples.

“Have you heard from Cas?” Sam dared to ask, but he kept his head bent and his eyes closed against the dim lights of the hospital room.

“No.” Bobby sighed. “I got my ears out though. He’s bound to turn up soon if Sarah’s back already.” Bobby added.

“She said she called in a favor,” Sam murmured. “I doubt Cas has those kind of connections.”

“Last week, you woulda doubted that Cas was an Angel.” Bobby countered. “Or that I’d be up and walkin’ good as new.”

Sam had to laugh at that, even if the sound was punched out of him in a lucrative moment of weakness. He opened his eyes as he gripped the back of his neck, staring up at his uncle. Bobby had his arms crossed over his chest while he leaned against the wall across Dean’s bed. He had his usual flannel, denim jeans and ball-cap get up on today. But he was standing on his own two feet. Whereas two weeks ago, he’d been confined to a wheelchair like he had for the past seven years.

“Yea know,” Sam sighed. “If you’d told me four years ago about any of this…” Sam shook his head roughly.

“Yea.” Bobby grunted in agreement. “That’s why I kept you boys in the dark. But I gotta hand it to you both…” Bobby trailed off until Sam picked his gaze back up to find his uncle smiling that small, rare, proud smile. “You two make a hell of a team. There ain’t been nothin’ yet that you two can’t handle together. And I’m damn proud of you all, Cas too. We’ll find him, Sam.”

“I hope so.” Sam whispered, his gaze falling back on his brother.

“Hey, this is a paper cut to Dean.” Bobby scoffed. “He’s sleeping off the morphine. He’ll be fine.” Bobby grinned lightly when Sam glanced up at his Uncle again. “You want some coffee?”

“Yea.” Sam agreed. “Thanks Bobby.”

 

 

*******************

 

 

“Let me grab some things from the Impala, then we can jet.” Jo said as she let the hospital room door close gently behind her.

“This is the only thing you’ll need.” Sarah told her.

Jo blinked, and Sarah was twirling a long silver-looking stake in her hand. Sarah regarded the metal curiously, heaved a gentle sigh, then spun it one last time for Jo to take the handle.

“What is it?” Jo asked, timidly reaching out for the weirdly shaped metal.

“It’s an Angel Blade.” Sarah explained. “Not mine, I lost that a long time ago. I managed to snag this one when I got my body back. It’ll kill pretty much anything on the planet.”

“Including me.” Jo murmured, gingerly wrapping her fingers around the edges of the handle. The blade seemed to readjust itself as Jo weighed it in her palm. The handle became a bit heavier, the tip lighter, more balanced in Jo’s hand. It was easier for her to hold and she imitated the spin Sarah did, twirling the blade almost effortlessly in her fingers.

“Including Angels. So be careful with it.” Sarah added with a smirk. “Keep your knees loose.”

That was all the warning she got before Jo felt her stomach drop to the floor. The world dipped forward, backwards, there was a tug at her arm and then another at her legs. Jo almost couldn’t breathe. When she gasped for a breath, her feet were back on solid ground. Familiar ground, actually.

They were back in the abandoned warehouse. Almost like three hours hadn’t passed. And her stomach felt like it was caught in her throat. No wonder Dean and Cas had looked so out of it the day Annie zapped them to Bobby’s from the hospital. Traveling via Angel Airlines was rough on the body.

Sarah waited, watching Jo carefully as she regained her balance and nodded to show she was okay. “You adjusted quicker than most people.” Sarah chuckled. She walked around the room as quietly as her heeled shoes would let her.

Jo made a note to get the fallen Angel a decent pair of hiking boots after this. Angel blade poised to strike in her hand, Jo turned her back to Sarah, covering their exits with a few glances.

“Guess we’re alone?” Jo wondered quietly. Her voice still echoed throughout the room.

“That would be lucky for a change.” Sarah murmured.

Jo heard the rusty, creaking handle of a door latch turning, and swinging on crusted hinges behind her. As she turned, Sarah was slipping into the room beyond the shacked door. Jo hurried to follow after her, pushing the heavy metal aside to shimmy through the doorway.

“Whoa.” Jo muttered, her gaze falling on the iron devil’s trap and chains centered in a white chalk circle poised under a single hanging lamp. So this was what kept the demon at bay. Or at least, what was supposed to keep it at bay.

“Enochian you said?” Jo asked, eyeing the foreign script on the floor, trying to commit the design to memory.

“Yes.” Sarah spoke as she stepped carefully around the room.

“So the language of Angels is powerful enough to keep down demons?” Jo wondered, taking in the rest of the room.

“And Angels, if used correctly.” Sarah admitted.

“This is the same writing you used to banish Annie from Bobby’s house last week?” Jo asked, pointing at the chalked scribbles on the floor.

“Not these writings exactly,” Sarah explained. “But it’s the same language yes. The blood was the key element of the banishing spell I activated.”

“You’ll have to teach me that one later.” Jo murmured as her gaze wandered from the trap.

Not two steps in front of her, just outside the chalk drawing was a metal cart. Jo did a double take when she noticed the flannel shirt draping over the edge. The top of the cart held a brass-looking bowl that was covered in blood, filled with water and salt. Holy water and salt, if Jo had to guess. Next to it was a bloody syringe, two full jugs of holy water, Rosy-Maries still tucked into the lids along with a huge sack of salt covered in bloody fingerprints. Jo’s hand shook slightly as she reached for the flannel that originally caught her eye.

It was definitely Dean’s.

“Torture.” Jo whispered, but the word felt foreign on her tongue, her mind balking at the thought of Dean wielding the bloody syringe. “Dean was…torturing Alistair?” Jo asked, her voice shaking at the thought. “Are you kidding me? He only got into hunting because of Cas, and at that Dean never—”

“Jo.” Sarah cut off her words sharply, her voice dipping like a command from her mother. Jo clenched her jaw and shook her head roughly. “Now’s not the time.”

“Yea. Fine.” Jo muttered, but she couldn’t shake the thoughts away. The shouts and yells she’d heard when they walked into the building earlier echoed in her mind; the painful screams and the demented half-laughter she’d heard before rushing at Annie. That had all come from Alistair while he was under Dean’s hand. Jo swallowed as she tore her gaze from the cart back to the fallen Angel.

“So what caused the break?” Jo asked tightly, since Sarah was crouching over the chalk etched into the floor.

“I’m not—” Sarah twitched as a drop of water smacked the side of her face. Jo held back a chuckle, but Sarah stared up at the pipe in confusion. Then another droplet of water dripped down, and Sarah moved out of the way. It landed right on the cracked spot of the devil’s trap.

“Oh they’re getting creative.” Sarah murmured.

“How ya figure?” Jo asked. “It’s just a leaky pipe. We’re lucky this whole building hasn’t collapsed in on itself yet.”

“A leaky pipe that just so happens to be right over the outer edges of the trap keeping Alistair from breaking loose?” Sarah asked, raising an eyebrow at Jo in suspicion.

“Okay fair enough. Where does the pipe lead though?” Jo wondered. She reached into her jacket pocket, glad at least that her flashlight made the journey over. Clicking the small device on, Jo set the light up onto the dripping pipe, walking around Sarah to follow the line back behind the trap.

“There’s a faucet.” Jo muttered as the light fell on the end of the pipe before it disappeared beneath the floor. “It’s completely rusted though.”

“That’s no matter for an Angel.” Sarah said. “This is where it’s gonna get dodgy. Whatever happens, I’ll try to get you back to the boys.” Sarah promised.

“What are you talking about?” Jo asked.

“I’ve got to call my sister down.” Sarah gave the trap a pointed look before catching Jo’s eye again.

“Right.” Jo murmured, but she nodded, holding the Angel Blade tight at her side.

“Aniel!” Sarah shouted to the roof of the building. “Your devil-trap is absolute _shit_.”

“Subtle.” Jo scoffed.

“My devil trap was impenetrable.” The cool voice responded just over Sarah’s shoulder.

Jo’s eyes widened. Between one blink and the next, the red-headed Angel was back, her jaw set tight and her arms crossed over her chest. Did she never change? Jo swore she was wearing the same outfit every time she saw the Angel. A plain white blouse tucked into black slacks and dress shoes. The only thing probably keeping her warm during these cool near-winter nights was the long gray coat around her shoulders that fell to her knees. Jo wondered distantly if Angels even felt the cold.

Sarah smirked, and simply pointed to the missing spot of the outer ring. “Then you were sabotaged sister.”

“Alistair insinuated that demons were not behind the attacks.” Annie seemed to nod, but Jo wasn’t sure.

“So you agree?” Sarah guessed.

“Only an Angel can kill an Angel.” Jo offered, gaining Annie’s attention. Those eyes bore into Jo, but this time, the huntress stood her ground. She gave Annie a smirk as then flashed her light onto the rusted faucet behind her without looking away. Annie’s gaze flickered to follow the light but her expression remained stoic. “I couldn’t turn this. But, I bet an Angel could.  Guess where this pipe leads.”

“What you’re implying is that a member of the Host, maybe someone in my own garrison is committing murder.” Annie spoke clearly and with a heavy weight in her voice that Jo felt buzz against her skull. “It’s impossible.”

“No, it’s not.” Sarah told her. “Not if they fell from the cause.”

“They wouldn’t dare.” Annie gritted through her teeth. Sarah took a deep breath, and Jo swore her flashlight flickered slightly.

“See for yourself sister.” Sarah muttered. “No one else was in this room with Dean Winchester. And as you said, this trap was unbreakable. There is a snake in your garden Annie. Better find it before it bites you again.”

“Oh good, you found the traitorous little prude.”

Jo gasped at the voice that rang out behind her. She spun around quickly, stumbling back into Sarah without thinking. Sarah caught her arm as Jo dropped her flashlight. The flickering light only lingered on the figure outside the devil trap for a few seconds. Jo frowned. Wait, she knew that voice.

The figure stepped out from the shadows, and Jo held back a groan. Uriel was sneering at Sarah, that same twisted smile plastered on his face. And, like Annie, the Angel was wearing the same suit as the last time Jo saw him way back in October. Seriously, did Angels know nothing about fashion?

“Uriel.” Sarah muttered quietly. “I didn’t send for you.”

“You’re not the one giving orders anymore.” Uriel snipped. “You gave up that privilege when you turned your back on us all.”

Jo saw something silver glinting in his hands. Her fingers tightened over Sarah’s blade in her palm, still clutching tightly in her hand while her arm hung at her side. Jo kept the blade out of Uriel’s sight just in case. At the very least, if Uriel tried to attack, Jo could surprise him with a blade of her own.

“Uriel, you said you went to receive Revelations from our superiors after we settled Dean in this room.” Annie spoke up suddenly, from behind Jo’s shoulder. The hunter didn’t dare look away from Uriel, and she saw his snarl break for half a second at Annie’s words. “What did they say?” Annie wondered.

Jo narrowed her eyes as Uriel stood poised in front of them like Sarah was a meal he was barely holding back from devouring. Jo stepped slightly, keeping half her frame against Sarah in case Uriel decided to pounce rather than answer Annie.

Surprisingly, Uriel turned to stare at Annie over the girls. “The orders are the same.” Uriel said. “To find the one responsible for murdering our brothers and sisters.”

“We already have.” Sarah said. Jo tried not to flinch at the bluff. They were standing between two all-powerful Angels. If they were caught bluffing, it might not end well. “The culprit made one grievous mistake.” Sarah reached a hand up slowly, her fingers turning gently.

Jo tilted her head slowly as something shifted out of the corner of her eyes. Glancing over, she saw the rusty faucet turning steadily behind Uriel. At first the drip became quicker, pattering against Uriel’s shoulder as he stood over the broken patch of the devil’s trap. The water soaked into Uriel’s lapel before he moved out of the dripping path. Sarah turned off the faucet entirely as she smirked next to Jo.

Oh this fallen Angel was clever. Jo noticed the anger that flashed in Uriel’s eyes, the rage as he brushed the water away from his suit coat. Sarah said there was a snake in the garden, someone betraying Annie, someone who knew that Dean would be in this room with Alistair all night. Jo tried not to smirk.

“Sarah’s been telling me you Angels are the—how did you put it exactly?—” Jo thought back to Dean’s hospital room. Sarah tilted her head with a soft smile of encouragement. “Oh right. Diviners of Fate. So you guys would have no trouble making one tiny pipe work again. One leaky pipe that just so happened to be placed right over a chalk line of an otherwise unbreakable devil’s trap. One tiny drop at a time, that was just enough to let a demon loose so he could kill the only man able to discover the truth. How…” Jo waved her empty hand at Uriel. “Convenient.”

“Mind your tongue with me girl,” Uriel spat. “I can snap your neck with a flick of my finger.”

“Oh, so you _do_ have the power to turn on a rusty faucet?” Jo asked, raising an eyebrow curiously. “I bet you could do it even if you’re not in this room. Or maybe you can be invisible. Can Angels do that?” Jo wondered. She turned slightly to look at Sarah, who gave her a soft shrug as an answer.

“Huh. How about that.” Jo swallowed her pounding heart as she turned back to glare at Uriel. “So I guess my only question is this: Were you really out seeking Revelations, or was that just a load of bull shit?”

“How dare you—”

Jo saw the flash of silver, but before she had a chance to raise her own blade, Annie was pushing between her and Sarah. Despite Annie’s appearance, she caught Uriel’s hand effortlessly, twisting his wrist so that the blade dropped from his hands.

“What have you done Uriel?” Annie wondered as tossed Uriel’s arm away. The shove was forceful enough that Uriel staggered back a few steps.

“What have _I_ done?” Uriel asked, massaging his wrist. “What have you done sister? You listen to these petty mortals as though we owe them our loyalty—”

“We were told to watch—”

“We were lied to Aniel!” Uriel argued. “How could our Father create such imperfect imps and expect us to treasure them? To honor them? No. Lucifer was right, Aniel. You must see that. You must see how they have ruined this world!”

“This can’t be good.” Jo murmured quietly as Uriel ranted. “An Angel working for the devil?”

Sarah nodded softly, her eyes focused on Uriel and Annie as the Angels argued. “I was afraid of that—” she sucked in a breath, and Jo glanced up to see that Annie was holding a blade of her own between her fingertips.

“Hael, Jeriel, Terrias, Kiral,” Annie spoke forcefully as she glared at Uriel, her blade held tightly in her hands. “Rachel, and Inias. They were our sisters, our brothers and you murdered them.” Annie accused, her voice trembling with anger. Jo could swear she tasted electricity in the suddenly humid air of the room.

Uriel’s jaw clenched. “They left me no choice. They refused to join me. I did not want to harm them, but sacrifices must be made. Please Aniel, join us.”

“I would rather die.” Annie snarled.

Jo jumped as the Angels collided. Uriel was tossed into a far wall. Annie lunged forward but Uriel caught her sword arm. Annie twisted, tossing the blade from one hand to the other so swiftly Jo almost missed it. Sarah hurried forward, snatching up Uriel’s blade just as a punch landed across Annie’s jaw, sending her flying straight at Jo’s chest.

The air was smacked out of Jo and she fell completely, her side crashing against the forgotten cart of torture tools as they clambered onto the floor. Her tailbone cracked on the concrete and Annie’s weight fell on top of her. How the hell was a female Angel so heavy? Jo took a breath, but the air rattled painfully in her chest, burning through her nose. Nausea washed over Jo, and she groaned. Something was broken. Great.

Annie shifted, thankfully, standing as soon as Jo hit the ground. A gentle hand at her wrist sent a pleasant warmth down her arm, into her chest, racing down her spine. The pain was gone as suddenly as it struck her, and Jo sighed in warm relief. Annie’s hand stayed wrapped around her wrist as the Angel hauled her to her feet.

“Thanks.” Jo whispered, blinking furiously so her vision would stop spinning. It cleared in enough time for her to see Annie staring at Jo with a hard frown and a slight tilt to her head. Then something must have happened over Jo’s shoulder, because Annie’s eyes grew wide in horror. Jo was about to turn around, but Annie’s fingers clutched at her wrist, and her arm, drawing her flush against the Angel.

Jo heard a scream come from behind her as Annie’s tug forced Jo’s head into her shoulder. She felt the bright light and the warmth of something like an explosion at her back. It was another minute or so before Annie’s grip loosened on Jo so that the huntress could pull away.

Turning quickly, Jo’s eyes fell on Uriel first. His body was strewn on the floor, resting between the shadows of giant ashen-black wings.

Sarah stood over him, panting roughly. Blood trickled down her mouth and from a cut along the edge of her jaw. The silver blade in her hand was tipped crimson, shining eerily in what little light was left in the room. Apparently, Sarah had blasted out another lamp. Sarah glanced up at Jo, relief flooding her eyes when she took in Jo’s uninjured appearance, but her head tilted curiously as her gaze flickered to Jo’s hand.

Annie’s fingers were still laced loosely around her wrist. Jo swallowed thickly. Annie was dangerously close to brushing over her mark. The thought sent Jo’s mind a blaze and she snapped her hand away from the Angel.

“So.” Jo cleared her throat as she scratched the back of her head. “Great team effort. Is Sarah off the hook now?” Jo asked.

“She just committed murder.” Annie answered flatly, staring down at Uriel’s body.

“Of a known murder who was going to kill you by the way.” Jo reasoned. “And he was in cahoots with the Devil. That’s gotta count for something.” Jo added. “Plus, she totally saved both our asses. Uriel was out for blood and you know it.”

Annie turned away from Jo then, looking down at Uriel’s body.  After a second, Annie took a deep breath and glanced back up at Jo.

The huntress forced herself not to shift under the Angel’s bright eyes. Seriously, who had eyes like liquid amber? No, Jo blinked, that thought did not just cross her mind.

Annie sighed softly. “I suppose, given the current circumstances I can…” Annie’s gaze flickered from Jo to Sarah, then back at Uriel again. “Overlook the order to kill Sarah on sight. However sister, I have been lenient with you—”

“Oh please,” Sarah scoffed as she wiped the blood off her mouth on the edge of her sleeve. “I gave you that speech after the Trojan War. Don’t bother. Come on Jo, let’s go check up on Dean.”

“I hear that.” Jo agreed quietly, carefully stepping around the dark wings to take Sarah’s hand. She tossed Annie a glance over her shoulder, and it was probably just her dizzy brain that came up with the sad expression on the Angel’s face as they disappeared.

 

 

\-----------------------------

 

 

When Dean woke there was cool air being blown into his nose through a tiny tube wrapped around his nose and ears. He took a shaky breath, rolling his lips as he glanced down at himself. He was wearing hospital scrubs, and he was definitely in a hospital bed. The sheets were scratchy against his skin, the same checkered blue and white pattern as his gown. Great.  

“You ought to take better care of yourself.” Annie’s voice sounded from the chair next to him. Dean didn’t have the strength to be startled. Although, he did have enough energy to turn his head and glare over at the Angel on his left.

“You oughta learn to manage a damn devil’s trap.” Dean mocked quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. His throat felt raw and bruised. He couldn’t speak any louder if he tried.

“The trap was laid perfect.” Annie explained. “Uriel had disrupted a pipe that caused the break.”

“You’re shitting me.” Dean muttered.

Annie shook her head stiffly as she stared at her palms in her lap. “Sarah, and your friend, Jo brought it to my attention.” Annie sighed.

“Sarah’s back? Where’s Cas?” Dean demanded, groaning as his throat flared in pain.

“I don’t know.” Annie answered.

“Bull shit.” Dean growled. “You’re an Angel. How can you not know?”

“It’s not my job to hunt down rogue Angels.” Annie told him flatly.

“So you did know,” Dean murmured. “Ever since you pulled me out. You knew Cas was an Angel.”

“Yes.” Annie admitted, turning amber brown eyes onto Dean. Even now, in the dim light of the room, and the beginning light of a sunrise peaking through the window, her eyes seemed to glow. Dean passed his tongue over cracked lips. There was a hint of iron still there, and he tried not to grimace.

“Why didn’t you ever tell him?” Dean whispered.

“He didn’t need to know.” Annie explained. “It was too soon.”

“You guys planned for him to fall?” Dean asked in disbelief.

Annie went back to staring up at the window. Silence filled the room. After a few seconds, Dean realized the Angel wasn’t going to answer him. But the silence was answer enough.

Dean tried to move in his bed, only to find that his side erupted in pain at the first hint of movement. His legs were sore when he tried to stretch them, and his arms tingled at his side. Then again, there was a morphine drip in his right arm. Every part of him was groggy and didn’t want to move. The last thing he remembered before passing out was Alistair, breaking free of his trap and beating him to shit. Dean could still feel the demon’s hand gripping his neck tight enough to choke the air from his lungs.

The bastard. **_It’s all thanks to you_** …

“Did you know about me?” Dean asked gingerly as the memory flooded his mind. “Is it true? Did I really break the first seal?”

Annie’s gaze fell from the ceiling to her hands. She rolled her lips together as her gaze flickered across her lap and Dean had a feeling she was going to fly off without answering him again.

“Don’t.” Dean snapped. “You _owe_ me. Did I break the first seal? Did you know about it?”

“Yes.” Annie ground the word out with a harsh breath. “When we discovered what Lilith had planned, we battled our way through Hell. I fought as fast as I could to reach you, Dean, to prevent this from happening. But we were too late.”

Dean rolled his head against his pillow as he screwed his eyes shut. He felt nauseous with guilt. He broke the first seal. He had started the wheels leading to the Apocalypse. Because he’d given up the fight in Hell.

“Dean, it’s not blame that falls on you now.” Annie spoke, jarring Dean from his thoughts. “It was fate.”

“How the fuck is this fate?” Dean growled, opening his eyes to glare over at the Angel despite the sting he felt in his chest.

“The Righteous Man who breaks the first seal,” Annie turned her head back to watch him. There wasn’t blame in her expression, only sympathy. Which, coming from the Angel, felt like shit. “Is also the one who wields the power to end it.”

“I can stop the Apocalypse?” Dean asked.

“Or Lucifer.” Annie admitted with a small nod of her head.

Dean shivered at the thought. “No, Annie you can’t—” Dean shook his head gently. “H-how can it be me? I can’t…” Dean shut his eyes. He couldn’t stare at the Angel anymore. Her hard expression looked too much like disappointment and disapproval.

“I understand the weight on your shoulders Dean, and I do not envy it.” Annie said. Her voice was strong and resolute but Dean still couldn’t look at her. “I cannot promise you an easy path, but I can promise that you will not be alone.”

Dean heard the handle of his room door opening. The soft flutter of air beside him sounded Annie’s exit as Sam walked into the room.

“Hey, you’re awake.” Sam sighed in relief as he sunk into the chair where the Angel had sat not two seconds ago. He had to notice the water at the edge of Dean’s eyes. He had to notice the way Dean was shaking in the bed. But Dean was grateful that Sam didn’t ask him about it and didn’t look at him with pity or remorse. Actually, when Dean opened his eyes again, Sam looked pissed. “Next time I see Annie, I’m gonna—”

“It was Uriel.” Dean murmured. “He messed with the devil’s trap.”

“Yea, Sarah told me.” Sam nodded. “You still shouldn’t have gone in there alone.” He added roughly.

Dean didn’t have an answer to that. He glanced down at the IV and blood pumping into his system from a drip over his head, and the heart monitor beeping at his side.

“How long till I’m out?” Dean asked.

“We were waiting for you to wake up,” Sam told him. “Been out for ten hours now.”

“Fantastic.” Dean muttered. “How’s Sarah?”

“I think her and Jo just became best friends.” Sam grinned softly.

“We’re so fucked.” Dean shook his head gently at the thought, but there was no weight behind his words. At least Sam chuckled quietly. Dean let the silence grow between them, gathering up his breath and courage to keep talking. “Alistair?”

“Dead.” Sam answered tightly.

Dean frowned, staring at his brother harshly. “Did you—”

“No.” Sam cut him off. “Annie did him in, I just…helped.”

Dean huffed a breath at that. He didn’t have the energy to be pissed at his brother right now. In fact, something close to relief washed over him at the thought. Alistair was dead. Dean closed his eyes for a moment, letting it sink in slowly. He passed his tongue over his lips as he flexed his fingers at his side. Sam was quiet beside him when Dean opened his eyes again.

Sam looked like there was something eating at him, but all Dean could do was raise an eyebrow curiously.

“Sarah told me…” Sam started, then stopped as he took a breath. He looked down at his hands in his laps as he spoke. “About you in Hell. How it broke the first seal.”

“Can we not do this right now?” Dean muttered harshly.

Sam’s eyes were on him the next instant. “Dean it’s not your fault—”

“Sam.” Dean warned.

“ _It isn’t your fault_.” Sam pushed, scooting to the edge of his chair so he could lean on the railing of Dean’s bed. “You gotta know that. This could have happened to anyone. I know how you get in your head sometimes Dean, and you need to know this isn’t happening because of you. I don’t want you beating yourself up about this. It’s not your fault.”

Dean rolled his lips, keeping back the words that were trying to bite their way up his throat, to snap at Sam that he was wrong. Because it was his fault. He did start all this. He was the one who made the choice to get up off the rack and throw the nearest soul back onto it. But Sam was staring at him with those damn puppy eyes, and, like always, Dean didn’t have the strength to fight him. Sam gave him a weak smile.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Sam explained gently. “I’ll get the doc in here so he can clear you, give you some meds and we’ll get you home. Then we’re going find Cas. Sarah’s got her grace now, maybe she can track him down somehow. Once we get him back, we’re gonna stop Lilith and this damn Apocalypse.” Sam’s words were so forceful, that for a minute there, Dean believed every word.

“I know you want to fix this, and we will, Dean.” Sam was still talking, and Dean found himself nodding gently. “But you need to know that we’re going to do this together. Okay?”

Dean swallowed thickly. It felt like two days ago, Dean was the one telling a twelve-year-old Sammy that things were going to be okay. That even though his arm was broken, the doctors could fix him, and then Bobby could fix the twisted handlebar on his bike. That everything was going to be okay.

Now though, it was a twenty-six-year-old Sam, leaning over his bed with broad shoulders, hair that was too long, and a fucking heart that was three sizes too big. The damn puppy-eyes were on full force, but they didn’t hold the shimmer of innocence anymore. Now, they were pleading with Dean to have faith, to believe that things would get better, that they could make it through this. Because they were together on this at least, and in the past four years of hunting together, nothing had stood in their way if they faced it side-by-side.

So why should anything stop now?

Dean swallowed thickly and took a deep breath of cool oxygen. Maybe he could do this. Maybe it was his fault that the Apocalypse was nearly upon them, but maybe Sam was right too. Maybe they could stop this.

They could find Cas. They had Sarah and Jo and Ash too. They could shut down Lilith for good. They could keep the devil in his cage and get back to ganking ghosts and ghouls like normal. Hell, maybe Dean could even go back to the shop. Sam seemed to notice the flicker of light in Dean’s eyes, because his hopeful smile turned into a tender grin.

“You with me Dean?” Sam asked.

“Yea Sam.” Dean agreed with a nod. They could do this. They could stop the Apocalypse. “I’m with ya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breathe my lovelies, this may be the end of this tale, but the story is not yet over. There will be one more final installment, and I hope that you'll join me on that adventure as you have here. Until then, I have a [tumblr](http://myangelshunter.tumblr.com) where you can reach me almost always for updates on my fics. I run a mostly supernatural blog, where I post some of my other smaller fics, and I even run [a tag for this particular series. ](http://myangelshunter.tumblr.com/tagged/marked%20verse)
> 
> I can't stress to you all how wonderful it has been, giving you this story. Your kudos, likes, shares, and comments of encouragement or curiosity have helped me to give you all the best fic that I can. For that, I am forever thankful and grateful. I hope to have the next and final installment of Marked for you all sooner than later. So, until then, thank you all my dears.


End file.
